


King of the Flowers

by ObscureReference



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Coughing, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, During Canon, Family Dynamics, Feelings Realization, Fire Emblem Fates: Revelation Spoilers, Friendship, Hanahaki Disease, Language of Flowers, M/M, Nonbinary My Unit | Kamui | Corrin, Pre-Canon, Repression, Seasonal Hanahaki is like Seasonal Allergies, Slow Burn, There Is No Threat of Death, seasonal hanahaki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24742882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureReference/pseuds/ObscureReference
Summary: “Is there something on my face, milord?” Laslow asked a little nervously, rubbing at his jaw.Xander forced himself to refocus on his papers. He’d been staring without realizing. A childish mistake.“You missed a spot shaving this morning,” Xander said to cover up his blunder. It wasn’t a lie.
Relationships: Lazward | Laslow/Marx | Xander, Marx | Xander & Pieri | Peri
Comments: 8
Kudos: 104





	King of the Flowers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kimium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimium/gifts).



> Hanahaki fic? In my ao3? 🤔 It's more likely than you think. (I say as a person who previously said they would never write any Hanahaki fic, ever, lol. Then the idea of seasonal Hanahaki came along.)
> 
> Anyway, it's officially the 18th of June, and that means it's Kimium's birthday! Whoop! Happy Birthday! I hope this fic is to your liking, haha. It was based on the "seasonal Hanahaki" and "reverse pining" prompts you gave me. It was definitely implied that I could have jumped around and done various members of the Trio as different seasons and I almost did, but then this monster got carried away, lol. So I might do that some other time. But for now, Xanlow! I hope you like it! Thanks for being such a cool friend!
> 
> Here is a [link to the seasonal hanahaki post that inspired this fic!](https://someobscurereference.tumblr.com/post/612470323085017088)
> 
> FYI, some of the dialogue (particularly scenes involving Corrin, such as Xander in grief or the Anankos fight) is ripped right from in-game cutscenes. References to dialogue had Xander and Laslow's A Support are also made, as well a worry-related confession Xander had in his S Support with Felicia.

When Xander’s chest constricted, his lung seizing with a sudden ferocity that forced him to double over, choking, his first thought had been, _Magic._

He’d been thinking of assassination attempts and dark curses at the time, but the truth of the matter hadn’t been that far off.

Without warning, he spat up a mouthful of something soft, wet, and decidedly abnormal onto the grass. Suddenly, the choking feeling passed as quickly as it had come.

Some yards away, Laslow stumbled in his dance, the sound of Xander’s quick, brief coughs clearly catching his attention. Even when he was no longer moving, the way Laslow’s body was illuminated by milky moonlight and the soft glow of the lantern he’d left by the tree line was exquisite.

“Hello?” Laslow said, raising his voice. He sounded nervous. “Is somebody there?”

Despite all logic telling him to do otherwise, Xander leaned into the shadow of a tree to hide himself. He slipped a hand over his mouth, muffling his breaths.

_What are you doing?_ he chided himself. But he did not move.

Laslow called out again. “Hello? Anybody?”

After a moment of silence, Laslow apparently decided he was alone. Foolish. Xander would have to tell him to be more aware of his surroundings later—if he ever managed to swallow his shame.

Laslow took a tentative step forward, still looking a little nervous. Then he took another step and another—and suddenly it was like he was a different being, made of confidence and grace. The bangles on his ankles and wrists jangled in rhythm with the way he spun and twirled. Xander’s mouth went dry.

He had only known Laslow for a handful of months. They were not friends, exactly, although Laslow certainly liked to act much more friendly than their relationship should allow. It had been pure coincidence that had caused Xander to stumble upon Laslow so late at night. The castle, with its unbreakable walls and prying eyes, had felt as stifling as it did necessary that night, and Xander’s vision had begun to blur after only a few hours of staring at documents and maps. Despite his exhaustion, he hadn’t been able to sleep.

A walk outside had only seemed natural, if perhaps exactly the sort of irresponsible action he would have scolded his siblings for.

In hindsight, it had been wrong of him to follow the soft glow of lantern light into the small outcropping of trees beside the grounds. The night air had been still and silent. Not at all tense with awaiting danger. Why had he assumed it had been some sort of rogue up to no good waiting among the trees rather than someone who also couldn’t sleep, who had wanted a bit of privacy, like him?

And yet Xander could not bring himself to step out of hiding, nor to tear his eyes away from the sight of Laslow’s dancing. Laslow had never mentioned any hobbies besides drinking tea and making himself a nuisance to women before.

A low voice slithering in the back of Xander’s head said that this sort of behavior—spying on his retainer in a private moment where he clearly did not want to be found—was morally dubious at bet. Unquestionably, it was poor behavior coming from a crown prince. His actions were even more suspicious when he looked at them objectively—as a grown man spying on his subordinate, a man several years his junior at best, in the dark of night during an intimate moment. Just watching Laslow bend and twist like that, so graceful under the spring stars and unaware anyone was watching, made him feel dirty.

Coming out of another spin, Laslow threw his head back. Xander’s chest tightened dangerously.

Without thinking, he crouched down and grabbed a handful of whatever he’d coughed up earlier from the ground. It was soft. In the dim moonlight and the faint, distant glow of Laslow’s lantern, Xander could make out small speckles of blue and red. Not blood.

Instinct said to leave. Instinct said that although a real assassin would have killed him with that surprise attack, that although the reason he’d found it so difficult to breath for a moment probably hadn’t been because of dark magic, that didn’t mean he was no longer in danger. It didn’t matter that, for a brief moment, the whole world felt as though it had come to a standstill aside from Laslow’s featherlight steps in the grass. He needed to go.

Still, crouched on the between the trees, Xander could not help but look up once more.

Laslow looked more like silhouette and fluidity than man.

Xander’s heart pounded. Something tickled in the back of his throat.

He made a quick retreat.

The pressure in his chest lightened the closer he got to the castle, and by the time Xander returned to his room, it had faded entirely.

The guards standing out front had saluted in acknowledgement while he’d passed, but they hadn’t commented on the pallor of his face or any acrid smell of dark magic on his clothes. Nor had their heavy gazes weighed on him any worse than usual. Whatever was going on inside Xander’s chest, it hadn’t shown on his face, and it probably hadn’t been dark magic either.

In his room, he’d found several wet, limp disc-looking things in his pocket. It was the evidence of what he’d choked on earlier. Frowning, he dropped them on his desk to dry overnight. Xander couldn’t help but stare at their soft colors and unassuming nature.

If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought they were flower petals.

Which was incredibly absurd. Xander did not go around eating flowers right out of the ground, obviously. There was no way he had consumed them by accident either. He had never heard of any sort of magic or disease that caused one to choke on flower petals—and certainly not without their stems or other parts no longer attached.

Xander couldn’t make sense of it. And yet the evidence was laying right before him.

Was there something else he was missing then? Laslow was such a strange fellow after all. He was pleasant enough when he wasn’t showcasing his bad habits. Had Xander taken him too much at face value? Was there something secretive about Laslow, some accursed ability he could only activate through dance? That would certainly explain why he practiced in the dead of night where nobody was supposed to find him.

Xander thought back on what he’d seen. On the way Laslow swayed and moved in the moonlight, his shirt loose and comfortable, the bangles on his wrists and ankles the only real indication of a traditional dancer’s wear that he’d—

Alone in his bedroom, Xander cleared his throat.

It was late. He could think more on this in the morning.

Confused and more than a little exhausted by now, he blew out the candle and climbed into bed.

Xander was not a botanist. Nor did he know of any, personally.

However, he had been graced with a trustworthy sibling who knew magic better than Xander ever would. It just so happened that Leo’s specialty was a tome that channeled the earth and summoned plant life as well, so Xander felt fairly confident in his brother having some answers for him.

Despite Xander’s faith in his brother, however, it turned out that the truth would be somewhat harder to come by.

“While I appreciate your confidence in my wide array of knowledge,” Leo said dryly when Xander showed him the petals, “I don’t particularly study… _flowers_.”

He sounded somewhat affronted at the implication.

“I understand that,” Xander said. “However, this matter is of some importance to me, so I thought it best to ask just in case. You have studied a wide variety of magic, after all.”

Leo looked somewhat more interested at the mention of magic. “You think these flowers might be magical?”

“Perhaps,” Xander said. “I wanted to receive your thoughts on the matter.”

He had not told Leo where he had gotten the petals, and he did not intend to. Although he had not seen Laslow that morning—he and Peri were taking care of some business the Xander of yesterday had asked them to attend to—he had felt no pain and no tightness in his chest since the night before. He didn’t want to alarm his family without due cause.

Leo looked at the petals Xander had carefully laid on the table. After drying overnight, they looked soft and unassuming as any other petal one might find in a regular greenhouse or in the more life-filled lands of Hoshido.

“Where did you say you found these?” Leo asked, examining a red petal critically.

“I’m afraid I cannot say,” Xander said, ignoring the slanted frown Leo sent him. “However, you’re welcome to study them for as long as you wish, if you think you may be able to identify them later.”

Leo sighed. “I know I do not have quite as many responsibilities as you, Xander, but I do have other projects to identifying _flowers_.” Before Xander could say something to that, Leo continued, “However, if you give me a day or two, I’m sure we could figure something out.”

At the mention of ‘we,’ Xander said, “I appreciate you asking your retainers to assist with this matter, although I’m sure this problem seems frivolous at first glance.”

“You said it was important, so I trust you,” Leo said, waving him off. “Although it would help to know where these flowers had come from, among other things. But no matter. Niles is very dependable.”

“Just Niles?” Xander raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Have you sent your other retainer off on some task?” Unfortunately, Xander could not remember the name of Leo’s other retainer at the moment. He would have to rectify that soon.

Leo scowled. He was not exactly stone-faced even in casual conversation, but it seemed as though he was wearing his heart on his sleeve more than usual today.

“If I could, I would send Odin away to never return,” Leo complained. He let out a quick huff. “But to answer your question, yes, he’s out at the moment. Though I wouldn’t assign him to something like this anyway.”

That seemed unduly harsh, although Xander admittedly didn’t know much about Odin just yet. He had heard a few rumors of the man being… odd, but they were yet unconfirmed. Even if the man was strange, however, Xander wondered where most of Leo’s apparent frustration with the fellow was coming from.

Xander’s interactions with Laslow had been frustrating at the best of times so far, but he had also proven himself more than capable of completing the tasks Xander set out for him every day. Xander and his siblings had not asked for new retainers, and although they had been varying degrees of receptive to the idea—Leo the least welcoming of all—Xander had no reason to doubt the capability of the retainers their father had gifted them just yet.

From Leo’s tone, however, it appeared he not gotten over his reservations on the matter quite yet.

Part of Xander wanted to pry, but he didn’t feel it was the right time for that at the moment. Better to wait a while longer and see if any problems arose.

“Well,” Xander said after a beat. “I appreciate your help in this matter. Please let me know if you find anything.”

“Of course,” Leo said, giving him a strange look.

There was not much else he could do until Leo came back with an answer. Or lack thereof, if Xander was unlucky. In any case, there were other duties to attend to in the meantime.

He left.

“Knock-knock!” Laslow’s voice called out in tandem with the rhythm of his knuckles rapping against the wood of the door.

Xander lifted his head, ignoring the pain in his neck as he straightened. He sighed and took off his reading glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose to ease the vague tension headache he had begun to develop.

“Come in,” he said loudly.

Laslow opened the door and sauntered in without much of the way of formal greeting or the deference that Xander had grown expect from his previous retainers. Peri was much the same way, so Laslow’s carefree behavior wasn’t much of a shock by this point. It wasn’t like Xander needed anyone to grovel, so long as they were respectful otherwise and showed themselves to be trustworthy.

Laslow was just… different. He and Peri both were.

Xander hadn’t known what to do with himself after the death of the last man and woman he had entrusted his life to. He’d known, factually, that his father would not allow him to go without another retainer or two for very long. Hence the tournament he’d hosted in order to find Peri. But even then, he hadn’t been able to imagine anyone else he could have trusted as much as his previous retainers. He couldn’t imagine any other two people by his side as he ascended the throne one day.

Were Peri and Laslow people he could imagine filling those roles in their stead? Peri, perhaps. As for Laslow, Xander wasn’t so sure.

He wasn’t bad, per say. Laslow was trustworthy—or so it seemed, although the incident with the flower petals had left some unanswered questions behind—and he was a more than capable fighter. He was just… different. Not quite like anyone else Xander had ever met.

Different.

“Reporting for duty!” Laslow said cheerfully. He sounded lighthearted, almost joking, the way he always sounded when it involved work matters. It made Xander frown. “I finished those tasks you set out for me this morning, Lord Xander. What else would you like me to do?”

“Have you received the surveillance report from the north?” he asked.

Laslow pulled a scroll out of his pocket and presented it. “Here.”

Xander took it. He examined for the contents for a moment, but when nothing jumped out at him as requiring immediate concern, he set the scroll aside.

“Very good,” he said, giving Laslow a nod of approval. “I know this morning has been busy, so feel free to eat a late lunch and rest up if you haven’t already. After that, however, I would ask that you take stock of what training weapons we have for the new recruits. I would like to get an early start tomorrow morning.”

“Can do,” Laslow said. He wore a crooked grin. “Anything else, my lord?”

_My lord._ How could one man consistently make a title sound so mocking? If Xander had seen the dancer in Laslow before they had officially met, he never would have been able to reconcile the two individuals. He still couldn’t.

Something in his chest tightened. Xander frowned harder.

“No,” he said after a beat. “I will summon you or Peri if something else comes to mind.”

“Understood,” Laslow chirped. “I’ll be on my way then.”

Xander nodded. “Be safe.”

Laslow’s grin widened. “Shouldn’t I be telling you that, Lord Xander?”

Xander fixed him with a stare. Laslow’s smile failed to dim.

A multitude of replies sat on the tip of his tongue. Some were reprimands or dismissals. Many of them were apologies.

This was the first time he had seen Laslow since catching him among the trees, and although Laslow was acting no different than usual, Xander still felt a bit of guilt lingering in his chest. He sincerely doubted Laslow, womanizer that he was, had any ill intentions toward him. Especially not ill intentions he meant to carry out through _dance_ of all things.

Whatever affliction had overcome him that night, Xander wasn’t feeling it anymore. He had begun to doubt that Laslow had anything to do with it at all. 

In any case, apologizing would have brought up more questions than answers. Xander bit his tongue and resolved to do better regarding respecting people’s privacy in the future. Although perhaps subtly reminding Laslow that the woods were a public place where anyone could stumble upon him would not have been remiss either.

“Lord Xander?” Laslow said questioningly. Apparently Xander had been quiet for a beat too long.

Xander sighed. “Don’t let me hear any more reports of you harassing tavern women in your free time. Or else.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you mean,” Laslow said, averting his eyes. “That must be some other handsome, devilish rogue you’ve been hearing about.”

Xander scowled. “ _Laslow_ —"

Laslow was out the door before Xander could finish his reprimand.

Xander narrowed his eyes at the closed door. If Laslow thought he could outrun the scolding that would be waiting for him when he returned, he had another thing coming.

Two days later, Xander had nearly forgotten about the incident entirely.

That was, he had nearly forgotten until Leo told him that the petals that Xander had given him actually originated from two separate plants.

“A peony and a forget-me-not,” Leo said matter-of-factly. “Though not particularly native to most of Nohr, they’re completely mundane flowers. Nothing magical about them at all. I couldn’t find any ritual spells that they would be used in either.”

He sounded somewhat befuddled by this fact.

Xander didn’t bother to ask Leo if he was sure. He knew Leo and his retainer would have been thorough.

He nodded in consideration, mulling over Leo’s words.

“Thank you for checking,” he said. “I appreciate you allowing me to take up some of your time.”

“It’s fine.” Leo frowned. “I’m just curious about what made you think they were magical in origin in the first place. Did they come from somewhere special?”

Xander thought on that.

“I suppose you could say they came from me,” he said lightly.

Leo looked at him with a flat expression, clearly unamused. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me. In any case, you’re welcome. Now, if you’d excuse me, I have work to do.”

Xander regretted his poor attempt of a joke. Leo was not the type to be so easily swayed.

“I apologize,” he said. “Truly, I’m grateful for your help.”

Leo nodded, expression tight, and walked away. A brief flash of silver at the end of the hall told Xander that Niles had been waiting just around the corner for him.

Once again, Xander felt as though he had somehow failed his brother in a way he could not articulate. He was glad Leo had at least someone he felt he could rely on, even if that person was not always Xander or their other siblings. Leo had such an independent streak in him, for better and for worse.

In any case, Father had summoned him several minutes ago. Xander was already running behind.

Shoulders tense, he made his way to the great hall to meet with the king.

After another three days of nothing out of the ordinary happening, Xander had begun to wonder if perhaps he hadn’t imagined most of it.

He hadn’t imagined Laslow’s dancing. Laslow’s poised silhouette, balanced on the tips of his toes—the image had burned itself into the back of Xander’s eyelids. It had haunted him for nights on end, when the day’s work was done and no amount of reciting the next day’s duties could drown out the shameful memory of that night. In the deep recesses of Xander’s mind, Laslow danced on repeat with unfinished movements. He wondered how the dance ended.

No. Xander’s limited imagination could not have come up with anything like that.

But the other parts—the coughing. The flower petals.

Well. It had been nighttime. Xander had never been prone to allergies, but he was not _immune_ to pollen or other allergens. It was springtime. It had been dark. Perhaps he had simply coughed, and the petals had already been there when he’d gone reaching for them in the dark.

Or so he’d begun to think, until—

Xander was speaking to one of the heads of the guard in the hallway when Laslow walked by, clearly busy with several of the errands Xander had set out for him that morning. Neither of them were in a place to stop and chat. As Xander listened to the guardswoman speak, however, he let his attention drift just enough to nod at Laslow in acknowledgement.

Laslow met his gaze. He shot Xander a grin, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he passed.

Xander’s chest tightened dangerously.

Ears suddenly filled with static, he could barely wait for the guardswoman to finish her sentence before excusing himself, his voice strained.

“Of course, my lord,” the guardswoman said, sounding vaguely surprised. “I can wait here for a moment.” She furrowed her brow in concern. “Ah… Forgive me for asking, Lord Xander, but are you—”

“I’ll return in one moment,” Xander interrupted, practically choking on the words and—something else.

He quickly turned and ducked away, knowing he had only seconds to spare before the worst overcame him. Thankfully, the first door he opened was unlocked an unused. Or so he thought from the brief glimpse he caught of the interior before he doubled over, coughs wracking his frame. Trying to stifle them hadn’t done him any favors.

Coughing brought as much relief as it did pain. The tightness in his chest and throat felt dangerous, and they made his heart skip a beat with their sudden onset.

But then, after only a few quick coughs, he felt something dislodge from the back of his throat. The relief was immediate.

He pulled his elbow away from his mouth—not his hand; that wasn’t proper, he’d been told, and old habits were hard to break—and watched something flutter from his sleeve onto the floor.

Xander crouched down, already knowing what he’d see.

Little red and blue petals stood out against the dark stone.

Okay, he thought. Perhaps there was more an issue than he thought.

Clearly, there was something more going on than he knew about.

Laslow had been nearby when the coughing had begun again. Perhaps there was a connection there after all. Or perhaps it was merely coincidence. Xander didn’t really believe that Laslow was a mage of any capacity, and even if his dancing had a power of its own—which was more believable, given how Xander couldn’t stop thinking about it when he was alone—that still didn’t quite line up. Laslow had merely been walking by when Xander had suddenly felt the urge to cough up flower petals the second time. There was nothing suspicious about that.

And on top of that, Xander had seen Laslow both alone and with others several times over the past few days. He hadn’t felt any strange urges to cough or an inability to breathe then.

Although, now that he thought about it, he had experienced several incidents of tightness in his chest as of late…

Calling the situation “frustrating” would have been putting it mildly. Xander had been trained in many things. Magic and other strange ailments were not one of them.

Suffice to say, it didn’t take long for Xander to decide he needed some outside help.

Thankfully, his sibling’s interests were diversified.

“Huh?” Elise wrinkled her nose. “A disease… that makes people cough up flowers?”

“It was merely a thought,” Xander said dismissively. Of course the question had sounded as ridiculous to Elise as it had in his head. “Something I thought I overheard. Clearly I was mistaken.”

To his surprise, Elise quickly shook her head. “Oh, no! I was just surprised! It’s been a long time since I’ve heard anything about that.”

“Oh?” His interest was piqued, but Xander tried not to let his excitement show too much, lest he garner too much suspicion. “Does that mean there is such a disease then?”

“Hanahaki!” Elise chirped.

Xander frowned. “Excuse me?”

“It’s called Hanahaki Disease,” she clarified. “A doctor in Hoshido named it a long time ago! I read about it in a book. It’s an annual disease that makes you throw up flowers.”

“An _annual_ disease?” Xander said. Was this a _permanent_ ailment then? His stomach churned at the thought.

“Yeah, annual.” Elise nodded. Her demeanor felt different now. Perhaps more mature. It was as though asking about something health related had triggered the more medically-focused side of Elise’s brain, and she looked as though she had completely forgotten about the wooden hoop she had been playing with before. “I mean it comes back every year, like allergies.”

“I see,” Xander said slowly. “And what are the characteristics of this disease? How does one catch it? Through magical means?”

Elise hummed a questioning sound. “Sort of! It’s a disease caused by repressed feelings. So I guess that’s magic, sort of.”

“Repressed… feelings,” Xander repeated.

He felt entirely out of his depth. The description of this disease sounded absurd so far, but clearly it was real. He resigned himself to listen.

Elise didn’t seem to notice his confusion. “Yep! Usually it’s caused by romantic love! It’s like… if you love someone but your body is really trying to repress that feeling for some reason, your love turns into flowers instead! They grow in your lungs and feed off your emotions, if I’m remembering right.”

Mildly alarmed at hearing there was plant life in his vital organs, Xander said, “And is this… fatal?”

“Oh, no! Not at all!” Elise said. Xander let some of the tension bleed out of his clenched jaw. “Although in some people it can be really brutal, I’ve heard. But a lot of the texts I read made it sound a lot more annoying too. Like seasonal allergies! You’re not in any danger, but until those flowers have nothing to feed off of, they’ll come back every year. Or so I’ve heard.”

She made a thoughtful sound. “I don’t think it’s very common. At least, I’ve never met anyone with it. But it does happen!”

“And how do you give these flowers nothing to feed off of?” Xander asked. “If the flowers live off your emotions…”

“ _Repressed_ emotions!” Elise said. “So if you stop repressing them, then you stop getting sick.”

“How does one simply stop… _repressing_ their feelings?”

Xander was pretty sure he wasn’t repressing anything. At least, not to his knowledge.

“Usually through confessing their love, I think.” Elise tapped her chin. “I saw that in a few books in the library too. They didn’t look very medically accurate though…”

A vein in Xander’s forehead suddenly felt like it was going to burst. “Please don’t go reading anything in that section of the library anymore.”

Elise tilted her head questioningly. “Huh? Why?”

This was. Not the time for that. Xander made a mental note to ask Camilla to talk to Elise later.

“Never mind,” he said. “Back to the matter at hand. If one doesn’t confess—that is to say, if a person with this disease doesn’t stop repressing their emotions—then this disease will come back every year?”

“Right! Or, I think so, at least.” Elise shifted her weight. “I’ve only ever read about it. How come you’re so interested, Xander?”

Xander forced himself to answer lightly. “Just something that caught my attention in passing.”

“Hm.” Elise squinted at him, and for a moment he wondered if perhaps his youngest sibling was more perceptive than she looked. But then she shrugged. “Okay! Anyway, I haven’t thought about it in a long time, so maybe I’ve forgotten some things. I’m sure you can find something about it in the library though.”

“I will remember that. Thank you.”

Elise perked up. “Oh, hey! If you’re free right now, maybe we could play together for a while?”

She looked at him excitedly. Elise didn’t often approach him for playtime, either through a silent understanding that she had a freedom he did not due to their difference in ages or because he simply did not make himself available to her enough. It had been a long time since they had freely played together. Xander’s heart ached to tell her no.

But alas.

“I’m afraid not,” he said regretfully. “There are still some duties I must attend to today. I apologize for leading you on, Elise.”

Elise wilted. “Aw, okay. But I’ll see you at dinner, right?”

“Right,” he said. He comforted himself with the way Elise seemed to cheered up at that.

He hadn’t been lying. Xander really did have other duties to attend to that day.

He also met with his father, the king, in a tense meeting that was, on the surface, a war meeting and in reality mostly Father lecturing Xander about how they could not trust anyone from Hoshido and that they must stay vigilant, always. Xander had nodded along. They were words he had heard more and more as of late, but he had no doubt that Father had a reason for all that he did, so he listened dutifully.

Later, when his official duties were done—or as “done” as they ever were—and Peri and Laslow had given a typical summary of their duties—typical in the sense that Peri had gotten all of her tasks done despite complaints from the kitchen staff reaching Xander’s ears about Peri’s intimidation tactics and Laslow completing all but the last of his tasks because he’d been too busy “helping” some poor woman on the street—

After all of that was finished and done with, Xander went to the library.

It took more time than he would have liked to find a book on flower symbology, especially with the librarians all sent home for the night. Xander had all but given up on the possibility of finding anything useful among the shelves at all until, almost a full hour after his arrival, he somehow stumbled upon a helpful-looking book by accident.

“Peonies,” Xander muttered to himself, thumbing through the pages. Thankfully the flowers within were listed in alphabetical order. “Peonies. Peonies.”

There.

His eyes skimmed past the factual information regarding where peonies were grown, and he zoned in on the more symbolic meanings. Xander had heard it said that flowers had a language of their own. If that were true, then Xander wondered what it meant that he had found these two specific flowers taking root in his lungs.

_Often spotted in a variety of colors in the wild_ , the book read, _a peony usually symbolizes riches, prosperity, honor, good fortune, happy marriages, or compassion, depending on the context. It should be noted that red peonies in particular may also symbolize bashfulness due to their usage in various myths._

Xander scanned the rest of the page, but that was what the passage boiled down to.

He frowned. Those were a lot of meanings to be found in a single flower. Perhaps trying to find meaning in something that might have been purely random was a doomed venture—although he did make note of red peonies in particular symbolizing bashfulness, as that was the color of the petals he’d been coughing up.

Peonies weren’t the only flower he was interested in, however. Xander turned to the entry on forget-me-not flowers and found the image of a tiny cluster of light blue flowers sketched into the corner of the page.

As the name implied, forget-me-nots symbolized the hope that the recipient would not forget the sender. Similarly, they were used to symbolize memories in general, as well as eternal love.

There was the mention of love again. Xander did not consider himself a cynic—perhaps a realist at worst—but he was suddenly sure if he thumbed through all the pages in the book he was holding, every flower he found would have an entry about “love.” He doubted there were many flowers that didn’t symbolize romance in some way or another. Why else would bouquets be so popular among couples?

He put the book back.

Once he’d found the first book, finding two more books discussing the meanings behind various flowers was not very difficult. As expected, the entries on the forget-me-nots never wavered.

The peonies were a bit more varied. One entry argued that peonies were the “king of flowers”—Xander’s eyebrows rose at that—while another more or less agreed with the description of the first book, albeit with slightly different wording.

Xander wondered if there was such a thing as one true “flower language” or if the “language” was one poets more or less agreed upon except for when they didn’t. It would have been awfully convenient if that were true.

He went to bed that night with a clear chest and full head, having learned as much helpful information as he hadn’t.

The flowers meant something. Or they didn’t.

Elise said he must have been in love with someone and repressing it. But he wasn’t.

It was very confusing.

Despite what Xander’s reluctance to think too deeply about his apparent newfound illness would imply, he was not, in fact, an idiot.

If he was looking for the common thread between his two coughing-up-flowers incidents so far—including the few occasions where Xander’s chest tightened dangerously, although he felt no urge to cough and so were perhaps unrelated—Laslow was clearly the common denominator.

He’d first choked on a surprise batch of flowers when he spotted Laslow in the woods. He coughed again after meeting Laslow’s eyes in the hallway. In between those incidents, Xander had felt his chest tighten a handful of times, although he could not say for sure whether those incidents were his imagination or not. For more than half of them, he was sure they had occurred while in Laslow’s presence or while thinking about him.

As such, on paper Laslow clearly would have been the recipient of the “repressed feelings” Xander was supposedly feeling.

In reality, however, there was a problem: Xander was not in love with Laslow.

It was not a problem so much as it was a fact. Laslow, for all his frustration, was not an unpleasant fellow. Xander had acknowledged more than once his skill and grace both on and off the battlefield. As a dancer, Xander could probably be convinced of Laslow’s potential to train among those in Cyrkensia’s opera house. He was fairly talented.

But Xander was not in love with him.

He did not know Laslow well enough to love him. Laslow was his retainer, and Xander his lord. They had duties to fulfill to one another; that was their bond. Despite the casual nature with which Laslow tended to treat him, they were not exactly bosom buddies.

They had shared a few quiet moments together in the six or so months Laslow had been in his service. Laslow nearly had a heart attack the first time Xander shared a humorous observation with him, and his incredulous, wide-eyed response to the concept of Xander cracking a joke had caused Xander to smile in return. That had definitely felt like a positive step forward in their relationship. But there was still a long way to go before they could really be considered true friends.

They were not _unfriendly_ with each other, but they were not quite at the level of casual friendship Xander shared with Peri yet either. Xander had no incentive to _love_ Laslow in either a friendly or romantic capacity as of yet either. And although he expected that Laslow cared for him, as Xander had observed a generous nature in Laslow under his flirty, irresponsible exterior, he did not believe that Laslow truly loved him either.

So why Xander was left staring at a handful of blue and red petals he’d coughed up after pondering the issue for too long that night was beyond him.

It was perhaps a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy that Xander started to pay more attention to Laslow after that—particularly in a romantic context.

He was not in love with Laslow, but apparently his body believed he was. And why was that? It could not have simply been aesthetics. Laslow was, objectively, a handsome enough man, and perhaps the scented soaps he used and the attention he drew to his ear piercing when he fidgeted appealed to a certain type of person. Xander could acknowledge that much without it meaning anything, surely. He was not a person easily charmed by looks alone, however.

So why else did his body think he was in love when his head and heart clearly weren’t in it? It couldn’t have been because of the night he’d seen Laslow dance, could it? Laslow had been beautiful, yes, but beauty did not equal real, honest _love_.

Did a love have to be real or honest in order to cause one to be heartsick, however? Elise hadn’t said that, exactly, and the few medical texts he managed to sneak a look at in between duties didn’t answer any of his questions either. Was it simply the act of repression that created the flowers? Were the flowers always created by love? Did it have to be love for a person, specifically?

If so, then what was Xander repressing? His love for… what, Laslow’s _dancing_?

That night had been the trigger for Xander’s illness, apparently. But that asked as many questions as it answered.

So he watched.

There had to be something—perhaps a bit of magic Laslow did not know he possessed, perhaps something else—that had caused Xander’s body to believe he was in love, and he was determined to find out why that was.

Particularly before anyone else caught on.

“Is there something on my face, milord?” Laslow asked a little nervously, rubbing at his jaw.

Xander forced himself to refocus on his papers. He’d been staring without realizing. A childish mistake.

“You missed a spot shaving this morning,” Xander said to cover up his blunder. It wasn’t a lie.

Laslow’s tiny frown quickly morphed into his signature boyish grin. “Did I? Whoops. I guess I wasn’t as thorough this morning as I thought.”

Xander spent several careful minutes cleaning himself up every morning. Unruly facial hair was not becoming of the crown prince. Similarly, it did not surprise him that Laslow was not nearly as careful about his appearance.

“I’m surprised you have to shave at all,” Xander said without looking up from the documents Laslow had handed him a moment ago.

Laslow gasped in fake shock. “Lord Xander! Is that a slight against my masculine appearance?”

“It’s a reminder that you should act your age more often,” Xander said.

“I take offense to that, good sir.”

Xander looked up, fixing Laslow with a flat stare.

Laslow immediately straightened, poorly disguising the way he’d been slouching against the corner of Xander’s desk a mere moment before. He grinned sloppily, knowing he’d been caught. Practically everything about Laslow was sloppy.

Except that wasn’t true. Xander frowned at himself. He couldn’t let his own feelings get muddled with reality. Laslow had his flaws, but he didn’t deserve for Xander to unjustly take his anger out on him.

“In any case,” Xander said, repressing a sigh and an oncoming headache, “this looks complete. Thank you for your hard work.”

“Jumping from chastising me to compliments so quickly—” Laslow caught sight of Xander’s expression and changed whatever teasing comment he was about to make. “Well, I guess I can’t complain.”

Xander’s gaze didn’t waver. “If you have any complaints, I expect you to be straightforward about them.”

“Like I said,” Laslow replied, grin never faltering. “No complaints.”

Xander shook his head and looked back down. After a moment, he coughed into his elbow to clear the tickle in his throat. Nothing came up.

“Good,” he said. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind assisting Peri with the rest of her duties…”

“It would be my pleasure,” Laslow said. He bowed dramatically, as though Xander had any use for that sort of behavior. He had an inkling he was being made fun of again.

“I’ll see you when you report back in this evening then.”

Laslow took the dismissal for what it was and left, miraculously without another cheeky comment.

Once the door was closed, Xander cleared his throat once more. Still nothing.

Xander didn’t know what to do with him. Or himself.

“Xander.” Leo wore a serious expression. “I know you don’t want me to pry, but I’m curious. Did you ever figure out that flower problem you were working on?”

Xander considered his question.

“I’m working on it,” he said honestly.

Leo looked… contemplative. Less severe than the last time they’d had this conversation.

“Alright,” he said after a moment. “I wish you luck with that.”

“Thank you.”

They went on their separate ways.

“Oh, Xander! Xander!” Elise skipped to a stop in front of him. “Hey!”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Hello, Elise.”

“Xander!” Elise said again excitedly. “The librarian told me you’ve been looking at a lot of weird books lately. Is that true?”

“Ah.” He forced himself to stay relaxed. “And you think listening to gossip is a good use of your time?”

Elise looked cowed enough that he almost felt bad.

“Well, no…” She lifted her head. “But the librarians said you were looking at books about strange illnesses and stuff. Are you _sick_?”

“No, no,” Xander said quickly, trying to soothe his sister’s worried face. “I’ve simply been—interested in learning more about your hobbies as of late.”

Elise clearly believed him. The relief on her face was palpable.

“Oh, really?” Elise looked ecstatic. “Well, if you wanted, we could talk more about the stuff you were interested in?”

There was no excuse Xander could make that wouldn’t be suspicious. Elise probably deserved a bit more one-on-one time anyway. It had been a long time since they had spent time together for longer than a few minutes.

“That’d be lovely,” Xander said, making a quick plan to swipe a few more books from the library to pretend he had been researching more diseases than just Hanahaki as of late. “Does tonight sound good for you? After dinner?”

“Yay!” Elise cheered, which Xander took to mean yes.

“So,” Camilla said, sliding up next to him, “Leo and Elise have been telling me that you’ve been acting rather strange as of late.”

It was difficult to keep his face unreadable under Camilla’s scrutinizing gaze.

“I can assure you,” Xander said as evenly as he could, “they are reading into things that aren’t there.”

Camilla hummed. “If you say so. In any case, I won’t ask if there’s something on your mind. There always is.” That was a fair enough assessment, so Xander said nothing. He could feel Camilla’s eyes on him as she continued, “I only ask that you remember that I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” Xander said. “I will keep that in mind.”

“Hm. I wonder.”

Xander looked at her expectantly, waiting for Camilla to expand on that comment, but she only shook her head and bid him a good evening.

Xander jolted awake as something soft settled onto his lap.

For a moment, he thought that cat-rabbit hybrid Elise liked to feed had somehow found its way into his room again. Then he realized the newfound softness on his legs was due to a blanket that hadn’t been there before. And he wasn’t alone.

Instinct and years of training himself to sleep lightly forced Xander’s eyes to snap open. His fingers tightened around the quill he’d been holding before he’d fallen asleep, ready to use it as an impromptu weapon.

Laslow, realizing that he’d been caught, froze.

Instinct had propelled his body into moving, but Xander’s brain still needed another moment to catch up to what he was seeing.

“Apologies, milord,” Laslow said softly. He dropped the edges of the blanket. The fabric settled onto Xander’s lap completely.

Xander blearily looked between Laslow, the blanket, and his desk. Half-finished documents sat on the wood. Xander’s back was somewhat stiff.

Ah. He’d fallen asleep at his desk again.

Trying not to grimace at the pull of muscles in his neck as he straightened, Xander shook his head. “No, it’s quite alright.”

It was somewhat embarrassing to have been caught like this. Falling asleep upright like that made Xander feel like an old man. It wasn’t that late in the day, was it? The sky outside the window looked dark and clouded, but that wasn’t much different from how the skies of Nohr usually appeared. There wasn’t a clock nearby that Xander could rely upon either.

Xander shook his head. No matter. He’d make up for lost time somehow.

“While I appreciate your consideration, please don’t hesitate to wake me in the future if you ever see me like this again,” Xander said, carefully lifting the blanket from his lap and folding it. His limbs were just a little stiff. “Although I will try not to make a habit of it.”

“Forgive me for asking, but…” Laslow drifted out of his periphery. Xander felt him stand behind the chair. “Have you been overworking yourself, Lord Xander?”

“I am working myself according to what work needs to be done,” Xander said. “As we all should be.”

Somewhere behind him, Laslow hummed.

Xander was curious, but the soreness of his limbs made him reluctant to turn around. Before he could ask what Laslow was up to, however, he felt a pair of hands settle on his shoulders.

He stiffened.

“No offense, but you feel _really_ tense,” Laslow said, sounding somewhat amused. He squeezed Xander’s shoulders lightly. “What if I do something to help you relax?”

Xander lightly cleared his throat, keeping his eyes aimed at his desk. “What are you suggesting?”

“Well, tea usually helps me feel better, for a start.” Laslow dug his thumb into a tight muscle at the base of Xander’s neck. Despite himself, Xander had to admit how good that felt. “Also, although you may not believe this, but I have been told my hands are quite nice on several occasions. So, if you wanted a massage…”

“That won’t be necessary,” Xander said, voice stilted to his own ears.

“Are you sure?” Laslow laughed to himself. “Again, no offense, milord, but you look like you could use one. Or at least a longer nap.”

He could hear the teasing smile in Laslow’s voice even without seeing it himself.

He cleared his throat. Laslow was still softly kneading at muscles in his shoulders and neck, and it was awfully, terribly tempting for Xander to tilt his head forward and give Laslow better access. He restrained himself.

“I was unaware you had been promoted to our medical staff,” Xander said.

He busied himself rereading some of the documents on his desk, as much as it was to refresh his memory as it was to ignore how somewhat strained his breaths had suddenly become.

Laslow chuckled. “Fair enough. It is part of my job to take care of you, however.”

“Massages aren’t quite in the job description,” Xander said, throat tight. It was almost a struggle to keep his voice even.

Laslow made a disbelieving sound.

Xander couldn’t believe that he was about to have an argument with his retainer about whether or not _massages_ were really part of the job description. He couldn’t believe he was entertaining the idea. Peri wouldn’t have suggested anything like this, surely.

“Lord Xander?” Laslow shifted behind him, and Xander felt the way Laslow’s hands stilled against his neck. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I thought you just said I felt tense?” Xander said.

“Well, you are,” Laslow said carelessly. Nobody spoke to Xander with such carelessness and disregard for station except for him. And perhaps Peri, albeit in a different way. “But I mean you feel hot too. And you sound… different. Do you have a cold?”

The tickling in Xander’s throat suddenly intensified. He clenched his jaw to keep from showing it.

He couldn’t cough. Not right now. If he coughed, and Xander failed to hide the petals—or if Laslow thought he was sick at all—he would surely press the issue. He would most certainly report to Camilla and the others as well. Perhaps even Xander’s father.

Xander forced himself to swallow, to clear some of the ache away. He couldn’t let that happen.

Laslow was still waiting on a response.

“ _No_ ,” he managed to grit out. 

“I don’t believe it,” Laslow said. His hands dropped from Xander’s shoulders, and Xander relaxed slightly as some of the tension in his chest faded. “You sound terrible, milord. I think I’ll fetch you that tea after all. That and some honey will help your sore throat, I think.”

Xander breathed out through his nose. “I don’t have a—"

“You can’t hide anything from me, milord,” Laslow said, already at the door. He winked. “Don’t worry. I won’t tattle. And I’ll be back before you know it!”

Laslow was gone before Xander could tell him not to bother.

The moment the door was shut, Xander gave in to the urge to cough.

These coughs were heavy, and it took more than a moment to clear his throat. By the time he managed to stop, Xander’s throat actually did feel sore—and he had a small pile of peony and forget-me-not petals to show for it.

Xander stared at the petals wearily.

He wasn’t in love with Laslow. Clearly.

But if the flowers were caused by repression, what was Xander repressing? The silhouette of a dancer that Xander couldn’t forget, the feel of Laslow’s hands on his shoulders…

Was it all just sexual tension?

Had Xander _really_ developed an illness because he was—what, pent-up?

The thought was… embarrassing, to say the least. Xander wasn’t sure whether or not he believed it.

He shook his head, feeling a strong headache coming on. It was quickly becoming a familiar sensation.

In any case, he needed to do something about the evidence before Laslow came back.

The petals were carefully piled up and tossed away by the time Laslow returned. Thankfully, he didn’t stick around for long this time.

In the end, Xander was begrudgingly grateful for the tea he brought. It did end up soothing his throat a little.

Weeks passed. Xander’s coughing fits became more common, particularly after prolonged exposure to Laslow.

Consequently, he also became much better at hiding them. Laslow—and Peri, because of course Laslow had lied about “tattling”—stopped bringing the honey tea to Xander’s bedroom every morning after about a week, apparently figuring that Xander had “recovered from his cold” as he got better at hiding the strangeness in his voice every time he teetered on the edge of choking on mouth stuffed with petals.

Honestly, that description made it sound worse than it was. After a while, Xander had to admit his ailment wasn’t really that bad. A few coughs, and then it was usually done with for the moment. His throat and chest only hurt whenever he tried to repress his coughing for too long, and even then, he only really felt sore for a short while. He became quite adapt at quickly excusing himself from conversations or dismissing his retainers before he could reach his limit.

And then, as spring melted into summer, it stopped.

Xander didn’t notice it immediately. He didn’t find himself brushing petals off his sleeve every day, after all. Only occasionally.

But then one tension-free day turned into two, which turned into ten.

It stuck him that perhaps this was the “annual” part of the “annual disease” Elise had mentioned coming into play.

How strange, he thought, that something so magical and unordinary could simply come and go without warning like that.

A short summer bled into a long autumn and then winter, as was typical for Nohr’s climate. Xander idly wondered if he would have suffered for more than the handful of weeks he experienced if he lived in Hoshido instead of Nohr.

As bizarre and brief as Xander’s experience with Hanahaki had been, he spent nearly ten long months with clear lungs after that.

A lot could happen in a year.

Not that very much changed overall. Xander only managed to visit Corrin a handful of times that summer and autumn, unfortunately. Duties to the crown often kept him stuck in Castle Krakenburg, reporting to his father, or traveling to the Nohr-Hoshido border to quell the unrest there. Work always seemed to pile up right as Xander was preparing to take his leave. The few times he managed to visit Corrin, even if only for a day or two, were precious to him. Before he knew it, however, winter had arrived, and the oncoming snow and ice made travel to the Northern Fortress too dangerous to attempt.

Although he had never said as much to his father, Xander did not mind the danger. If he took the main roads, he did not think the path would even pose that much of a threat, assuming a freak blizzard did not blow through. Father had forbidden any of his children from taking the risk, however, even to visit Corrin, and so Xander reluctantly listened.

He looked to the north more than once that winter, guilt resting low in his heart at the thought of Corrin spending yet another winter and new year with only a few servants for company.

Xander wasn’t the only one feeling regretful either. As the first snows began to fall, the sight of Camilla sighing and staring longingly off into the distance became a more common one.

Camilla hadn’t been able travel very much that year either. Elise managed to visit Corrin most often, as her duties were lightest and being youngest allowed her more freedom. Camilla and Xander listened to her tales of those exploits greedily, making note of every detail. Leo did not ask as many questions as either of them, but he had a tendency to linger in the background and listen for longer than even Xander or Camilla, even when Elise was repeating herself.

In all honesty, Leo and Elise were likely tied with how often they visited Corrin, although neither could probably say they visited “often.” Too many duties, as well as what Xander believed to be protective instincts on behalf of their father, prevented that.

Ideally, Corrin could have lived with them in the capitol. Perhaps someday, Xander mused. When it was safer.

Border skirmishes came and went. Worries of an escalation in the war always bubbled below the surface, but nothing particularly worrisome happened that year. Xander convinced his father to reroute some funding to take care of several dam repairs around the kingdom to prevent potential damages and loss of life when the spring rains rolled around. He traveled with his retainers and several guards to take care of some pirate activity along the coast late that summer. Many things happened that year, of course. But overall, nothing much changed.

Although, now that more time had passed, Xander could more easily admit that he was grateful that—

A quick knock was all the warning he received before the door to the office flew open, two familiar retainers whirling inside with hands full of kitchen trays.

“Lord Xander!” Peri and Laslow chorused as they walked in.

Peri brandished a tray full of cookies like a weapon while Laslow followed in behind her, three mugs of something steaming balanced on his own tray. They both looked quite pleased with themselves.

Xander raised an eyebrow. “What brought this on?”

“I found a cookbook I wanted to try!” Peri announced, setting the tray somewhat precariously on the edge of Xander’s desk. “And Laslow said it would be a really good idea if I made some desserts for us to share.”

Xander carefully moved his important documents aside before pushing the tray to a more secure position.

“And when I saw how cold it was outside, I couldn’t help myself either,” Laslow added, setting his tray down next to Peri’s more carefully. “They’re still a little hot, so be careful.”

“Thank you,” Xander said. He could feel himself smiling at them both. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

Laslow smiled back before looking over Xander’s shoulder and out the window, the flurry of snowfall clearly catching his attention.

“It’s too cold out there to be alone today, don’t you think?”

“Yeah!” Peri agreed before Xander got the chance. “Brr! It’s annoying, but I can’t even fight the winds or anything to make it stop! The weather doesn’t play fair.”

“Perhaps not,” Xander said, smiling. “But I’m actually quite fond of the snow myself.”

Amused, Laslow shrugged good-naturedly. “At least that makes one of us.”

Xander took one of the mugs Laslow had brought. The steam billowing from the drink inside indicated that it would be too hot to drink for now, but the mug itself was pleasantly warm. He raised his eyebrows at brown liquid inside the mug.

“Hot chocolate?” he asked.

Laslow shrugged again and gestured to himself and Peri as Peri began doling out cookies on several smaller plates. “Coffee isn’t really our style. You might have less headaches if you drank a little less yourself, milord.”

Xander might have taken that comment a little more pointedly on another day, but on this one, he chuckled.

“Perhaps,” he said. “I just would have expected tea, coming from you.”

“It’s good to mix things up every now and again,” Laslow said. “Besides, Peri insisted.”

“Don’t lie!” Peri held out a plate of cookies, and Xander took it with a thanks. “You really wanted to drink hot chocolate too, Laslow!”

“So I did,” Laslow said, unashamedly.

Xander blew at the steam above his mug. “In any case, I’m thankful to both of you. I’m sure it’s delicious, Peri. Thank you for doing all this. Please, eat up.”

Peri cheered and took a big gulp from her own mug of hot chocolate, seemingly mindless of the heat.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Laslow said, taking a bite of a cookie.

Xander took a tentative sip from his own mug. It was still too hot and he didn’t care for sweets the same way Laslow and Peri did, but it was undeniably delicious.

“It’s good, right?” Laslow asked.

He swallowed. “Very good. Thank you both.”

Peri made an agreeable sound. “Of course! Anything for you, Lord Xander.”

Laslow made a humming sound, pleased, and took another bite of his cookie. There was chocolate smeared in the corner of his mouth.

Feeling somewhat more teasing than usual, Xander said nothing and mentally filed the image away for later.

When summer first rolled into Nohr the year before, Xander had made a mental note to be aware of any signs of his illness coming back. Elise had said it was _“annual,”_ after all. _“Like allergies.”_ So it shouldn’t have been a surprise if Xander found himself coughing up flower pieces again when spring returned.

Except, a year was a long time. After months and months of nothing, Xander had expected—hoped, really—that his body had sorted itself out by now. If the flowers were simply caused by pure sexual attraction or his body being confused, surely a year was more than enough time for his body to right itself or get used to that altered state.

It was carelessness that left Xander unprepared when a sudden coughing fit struck him that next spring.

It was not the first day of spring, nor was it a day where Xander had spent a particularly long time with Laslow. In fact, it had been several hours since Xander had interacted with anyone. Even if he had been expecting the flowers to return, Xander would not have been particularly worried in that moment.

Still, it all boiled down to carelessness. Xander should have been more conscientious of his possible relapse. He should have been more aware of his surroundings.

As it was, Xander was caught off-guard and off balance when the door to his office suddenly opened while he was bent over, coughing.

Xander hastily turned away from the door. He could feel the petals caught in his lungs, clinging to the lining of his throat. If he could just get them out and hide them fast enough—

“Lord Xander?” Laslow said worriedly. “Are you alright? Do you need water?”

Xander waved him off without speaking. His eyes were watering too much to risk looking, but he could hear Laslow quickly walk around the room and fiddle with something on the far table.

If he could just clear his throat—

He coughed hard. Purposely. Something shifted in his chest.

“Here,” Laslow said. He sounded close.

He squinted in Laslow’s direction, trying to keep his mouth hidden, just in case any stray petals found their way out. Laslow’s blurry image looked like he was holding something.

Xander took it. It felt like a cup.

He raised the glass to his mouth without thinking. The cool water he swallowed immediately helped soothe the tickle in his throat. Laslow began gently patting him on the back as he drained the glass.

“Are you alright? Can you speak?”

Maybe his body had forgotten what the feeling of petals in his lungs had felt like. That might have explained why this coughing fit felt so much harsher than what he remembered. Xander hadn’t managed to cough up much—only little petals he easily crushed in his palm to hide them—but the water helped him swallow what was reluctant to come up.

Xander cleared his throat and tested his voice. “Thank you.”

Now that he wasn’t coughing, it was easier to see clearly. The relief on Laslow’s face was clearly visibly now.

“Thank goodness,” he said. “How are you feeling? Do you want more water?” He gestured to the pitcher on the far end of the table that Xander had forgotten about.

He shook his head. “No, no. I’m fine. It was just a… tickle in my throat.”

Laslow frowned, looking worried again. “Have your allergies returned?”

“My allergies?” Xander questioned.

“From last spring,” Laslow said, “when you had that ‘cold.’ You had that sore throat, and you kept sneezing whenever I opened the windows, so I assumed you actually had allergies.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Or do you actually just have a weak immune system?”

Xander didn’t remember sneezing very much last spring, but maybe that was because he’d been more preoccupied with his lungs at the time than his nose. He didn’t think he usually had allergies, in any case. Nohr didn’t typically drown in pollen every spring the way Hoshido and the more southern kingdoms tended to. Out of everyone in the family, Leo was ironically the one who ended up with watery eyes and a red nose when he spent too much time outside.

Come to think of it, Xander hadn’t made much of a habit of opening the windows before Laslow had come along and decided _“You could use a little more fresh air in here, milord!”_ every time he found Xander sitting alone in his office. Xander was probably just as likely to sneeze from the dust gathered on the window sills as he was from pure pollen.

But if the illusion of allergies kept him from confessing the truth—

“It was my allergies,” Xander said firmly. “You were right the first time.”

“Alright…” Laslow said, sounding a little curious. “Usually I’d expect allergies to make you sneeze more than cough though.”

Laslow had been the one to suggest allergies in the first place, and now he was second-guessing his own suggestion? Xander tried not to grimace too visibly.

“Everyone is different,” he said. “In any case, I’d appreciate if you didn’t tease me too much about this. Or go around gossiping again.”

“I would _never_ ,” Laslow said, which was a blatant lie. Xander gave him a hard stare. Laslow’s innocent expression did not falter.

After a moment, he shook his head. There was no controlling Laslow’s behavior. He didn’t know why he tried anymore.

“Thank you again for the water,” Xander said, hoping Laslow would forget about this quickly. “In any case, what made you stop by? Could you hear me coughing from out in the hallway?” He hoped not.

“I could hear you a little,” Laslow admitted. “That’s what caught my attention first. But, truthfully, I did come here for something else…”

Xander waited. Laslow did not immediately continue.

“And? What was it?”

Laslow grinned broadly. “I forgot!”

Xander sighed. Typical.

After a somewhat staggering start to that Hanahaki season, Xander knew what to expect. He fell into the routine of hiding his irregular coughing fits fairly easily, his memory of the year previous quickly coming back to him.

The fact he was still dealing with the petals in his lungs again was somewhat surprising in general. After a full calendar year, Xander knew: he was still not in love with Laslow.

He felt much more confident in saying they were better friends than they had been this time last year, however.

One year rolled into the next. And then the next. Then the next.

Five years after Laslow had entered his service, Xander was convinced his body was defective in some way. He couldn’t fathom why his body was under the influence of Hanahaki otherwise.

There were many things Xander kept to himself: his observations regarding Leo’s abrupt 180-degree attitude shift regarding his other retainer sometime after Xander’s first spring, for one example. The way Camilla sometimes looked at her own retainers, so openly adoring, for another. And there were other things, like his silent disagreement with some of his father’s orders as of late or the fact he had accidentally stumbled upon Laslow’s private dance practices more than once over the last few years, having watched for longer than he should have before slipping away. Those were all little secrets Xander kept close to his chest.

But he could not fathom anything he was _repressing._ Those were all thoughts that Xander was aware of and carefully kept to himself, but none were to the extent of repression or lies. If any one of his siblings asked him directly about such things, he might have admitted them rather easily, depending on the situation. None of that counted as repression, he was sure.

So he resigned himself to the fact his body was confused and that he just had to live with it.

Of course, he never let on what was happening to his family. There was no reality in which he could have ever allowed his father to be aware of his illness; it would have only have been perceived as weakness, which Xander could never allow. And while his siblings surely would have been more understanding, they would have worried, would have questioned, and Xander could not ever stand to be a burden, nor did he have the answers they wanted. He especially did not like the idea of Corrin worrying away in their tower, so far away and so alone with what they might have perceived to be grave news.

If it were a serious illness that would one day kill him, of course Xander would have done his due diligence to make the others aware and prepare Camilla to take over his role as crown princess when the time came. But Hanahaki, though unpleasant, was about as serious as spring allergies—just as Elise had described it so long ago. And so Xander felt justified in keeping that information to himself.

It wasn’t a surprise when word about Xander’s “seasonal allergies” got around, however.

Laslow had been the first to know, of course. Xander might have blamed him for having a big mouth, as he was wont to do, but that would have been somewhat unfair. Laslow only told Peri because he was worried, Xander knew, even if Laslow blabbing at all was somewhat bothersome to think about. He was mostly acting out of a place of concern.

And Xander hadn’t been perfect about hiding his illness either. Yes, he managed to hide most of the coughing fits, but he was occasionally caught with a strained voice and watering eyes while trying to suppress said fits as well. So the blame couldn’t be placed entirely on Laslow’s shoulders, even if he nor Peri seemed to know the meaning of the word discreet.

As such, by the time the fifth consecutive spring of Xander’s illness rolled around, his “spring allergies” were well known.

A lot happened in that time frame. A lot that didn’t have to do with Xander’s illness either. After a while, even that just became background noise.

Days into weeks into months passed. Xander received assignments and doled out assignments in turn. Camilla and Leo attended to their own duties. Elise began slipping away on her own more often, according to Effie and Arthur, but they all came together whenever Father called them. He seemed to be getting grayer by the year, which worried Xander somewhat, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that the kingdom’s borders and forces remained as strong as ever under Father’s guidance.

And then Corrin betrayed them.

There was gentle knock on the door to Xander’s office.

He pretended not to hear it. It was not the first time someone had come knocking that day, nor would it likely be the last.

But Xander was not up to any visitors at the moment. He’d been given his duties; he’d sent the orders out himself on the battlefield. He’d see Corrin’s betrayal brought to justice in due time.

He just. Needed a moment.

The knocking came again, this time followed up by a hesitant and muffled, “Lord Xander?”

Xander grimaced. It was always Laslow.

He hoped his silence would be answer enough. In typical Laslow fashion, however, the door opened anyway, and Laslow stepped in, gently closing the door behind him.

Xander turned his head. He could not stand to see Laslow’s sympathetic eyes looking at him like that. Not today.

“Please leave,” he said. “I have work to be done.”

Laslow nodded cautiously. “I understand that, milord, and I am not here to bother you. I just wanted to see if—”

“Clearly you _don’t_ understand,” Xander said sharply, “considering that you are forcing me to ask you to leave twice now.”

For a split second, the rational part of Xander’s brain wondered if he was being unfair. Laslow wasn’t trying to be overbearing. He was trying to help, Xander knew. It was just so _frustrating_.

Laslow just—

He just _never listened_ —

Then Xander caught sight of the guilt-ridden expression on Laslow’s face and felt justified in his disgust. He could not stand to look at him for a moment longer.

“…Of course,” Laslow said after a beat, surely reading something distasteful in Xander’s expression. “Apologies, milord.”

This time, Xander listened to the click of the door rather than watch Laslow leave. When he felt sick a moment later, he knew it was not because of the season.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Elise’s loud sobbing and exclamations of _I hate this!_ ; Camilla’s harried justifications that someone must have been influencing Corrin and if they could only get Corrin back and then _of course this would all be solved;_ the confused and hurt tone in Leo’s voice when he asked _why_ Corrin had turned against them—

All of it rang in Xander’s ears like a cacophony he could not escape.

He counted to ten for a second time. Then to one hundred.

Then he forced himself stand up from his desk and get to work.

His kingdom, his family, came first. Always. And Corrin now belonged to neither.

As crown prince, it was Xander’s job to take care of that.

Xander’s head ached almost as much as his heart. There was a throbbing feeling behind his eyes. He wanted to lay down and sleep for hours, but even when he laid in bed or in a tent at night, he had only managed to catch an hour or two of sleep here or there. Nothing substantial.

His confrontation with Corrin in Cyrkensia days ago was still playing in his head.

Xander squeezed his eyes shut.

_“I’m_ sorry _,”_ Corrin had said, and they had sounded sorry, even as Xander’s heart had hardened at their words. _“I wish I could say more, really. But you’ll understand when you get there. If you come there, I’ll be able to tell you the truth. I want us to fight on the same side. To save the world together!”_

How could Corrin expect Xander to trust so easily? How had they convinced Camilla to join them with vague words like that?

_“Xander, think about what you’re doing!”_ Camilla pleaded in the same breath she raised her axe to slay his horse—or perhaps even take off his head before he’d been forced to retreat. _“Is this really what you want?”_ tell you the truth. I want us to fight on the same side...to save the world together

No, of course this wasn’t. But they had left him no choice. First Corrin had run off, rejecting Nohr and family, talking about an invisible enemy that simply sounded insane to hear about. Then Camilla had disappeared right along with them. How had Corrin’s weak pleas convinced her to join Corrin’s cause so easily? Camilla had been more devastated than anyone when Corrin had rejected them. Could she just not handle the stress? Had her heart broken so completely that she had left all of Nohr behind for a traitor and false promises?

Leo, more unsure than Xander had ever seen him, was talking of _treason_ when the situation was still salvageable. Talking of leaving their posts, leaving Nohr vulnerable like they weren’t in the midst of a _war._ Talking nonsense like Corrin.

And now, Elise had also…

“Lord Xander,” Laslow said tentatively from behind him. “About those orders your father gave us…”

The pause before he continued was frustrating enough for Xander to clench his fists. Could he not just spit it out already? There was no _time_.

“Are you sure this is… a good idea?” Laslow hedged.

_“No,”_ Xander snapped. After a full afternoon of travel and arguing with Leo and his father’s admittance to not caring about Nohr or its people, he couldn’t take any more questioning. “No, I am _not_ sure. Is that what you’d like to hear? This is the _king_ you are talking about, and questioning the king’s orders is _treason_. So I recommend you think a little harder before the next time you question the orders you are given.”

He felt more than heard the way his voice went hard and cold as he spoke.

“Better yet, do not question at all.”

The silence that settled into the room was heavy. Xander kept his eyes trained out the window, focusing on the gray sky.

It was spring, and the landscape outside Krakenburg was as dreary as ever. It had been a long time since Xander had seen anything lively. That included the flower petals he had gotten used to seeing at least once a week.

Maybe he was too heartsick to continue being regularly sick. Or maybe the stress had finally sorted his ridiculous body out.

“Lord Xander…” Peri said softly.

It was the softness in her voice that made him look over his shoulder. Mouth pressed into a tight line, Xander spared a careless glance for his retainers.

The sight of their sullen, guilty faces made him do a double-take.

He had scolded Peri and Laslow plenty of times before. But this—the looks on their faces—

Xander tried to look at them. _Really_ look at them, despite the tiredness of his eyes and the weight sitting on his shoulders.

Laslow looked… stiff, Xander thought. He was standing straighter, less casually than he typically did. His face looked more drawn now that Xander had snapped at him. And he wasn’t smiling either.

When Xander wracked his brain, he found it very difficult to remember the last time Laslow had genuinely smiled. The air about the castle had been tense since Corrin had left, and although he wasn’t oblivious to the way Laslow had gone out of his way to lighten the mood as of late, Xander wasn’t sure he could have called any of those smiles genuine either. 

He frowned.

Peri looked strange as well. She’d had a lot of angry threats regarding Corrin and their misconduct a few weeks ago. More than a few training dummies had been destroyed beyond proper use in those weeks; the number of “accidental injuries” that occurred whenever Peri found a new sparring partner had been on the rise as well.

But suddenly, when Xander looked at her now, she appeared… smaller. More unsure of herself.

It felt like looking into a circus mirror. Peri and Laslow looked like sadder, more tired versions of their normal selves. Xander did not like what he saw in them.

Suddenly, he did not like what he saw in himself either.

“…I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, breaking the silence that had stretched out between them. He almost surprised himself with the sound of his own voice. “I… should not have said it like that.”

Laslow immediately tried to brush off his apology. “No worries, Lord Xander. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” Xander shook his head. “You should have. You and Peri are right to be unsure of your orders at the moment. With the way my father has been. With the way I have been neglecting you both in my pursuit of war. I…”

He frowned. Hard. Peri and Laslow shared an unreadable glance with each other.

The fact Xander couldn’t understand the look that passed between them just then—that he had let his pain and fear of further abandonment and his father’s expectations drive a wedge between himself and the two people he knew would never betray him, to the point where he couldn’t read his own retainers, his _friends_ —

That solidified something that Xander didn’t know he had within himself.

“I need to speak to Leo about something,” he said abruptly. “I will return when I’m done.”

“Okay,” Peri said quickly, nodding. “Then we’ll wait here for you.”

“Thank you. I will try not to be long, but this… matter… may take some time.”

They both nodded at that. Xander began to turn away, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He was about to do something that contradicted his sense of loyalty like never before. Yet it needed to be done. For the sake of Nohr.

“Lord Xander?”

At the sound of Laslow’s tentative voice, Xander looked back.

The expression on Laslow’s face could have been described as unsure at best. But after a moment of keeping his gaze locked with Xander’s, he began to look more sure of himself.

Laslow lifted his chin. “Whatever decision you make, sire, I know it will be the right one.”

Xander nodded at him. “Thank you.”

“I don’t really know what you’re talking about, but yeah!” Peri chimed in. “Lord Xander always knows best!”

“Not always,” Xander said. “I think perhaps I have not been doing what is best as of late. But I hope to rectify that soon.”

He didn’t miss the way Laslow straightened at that, nor the way Peri nudged him with her elbow, smiling.

Xander wanted to stand there for a moment longer, to relish the familiar warmth that filled his chest as he watched them hopefully peek out of the shells they had built around themselves the last few days. He’d been too absorbed in the larger problems at hand to do anything but neglect the struggles his own retainers were facing. His problems were so often their problems, and he had completely forgotten about the toll ordeal had been taking on them too. But no more.

He had to move while his resolve stayed strong, however.

_“Listen,”_ Xander had said. _“We are noble princes of Nohr—loyal sons to King Garon. No matter what… We cannot betray Father or this kingdom. Remember that.”_

_“I apologize for my words, Brother_ ,” Leo had replied, his gaze pointed downward, looking officially cowed.

It was Xander who owed Leo an apology now. And Corrin, when he saw them again.

A plan was already forming in his head. Perhaps one even a schemer like Leo would be proud of.

It was too late to keep the information he’d already shared with Father—and by that same vein, no doubt shared with Iago and his father’s other close lackeys as well by the point—from doing any damage. But it wasn’t too late to change his own plans going forward.

He swiftly turned heel and began making his way towards where he had last seen Leo, the only sibling who had seen fit to remain by Nohr’s—by _Xander’s_ —side for this long.

Although perhaps it wouldn’t remain that way for much longer.

“Niles and Odin will stay by my side,” Leo said, voice firm, after Xander brought the idea up to him. “I know, whatever I choose, they will stay.”

He sounded confident. But Leo had always been good at putting up a front when he wanted to. After losing Corrin, Camilla, and now even Elise in such rapid succession, Xander didn’t know if he could have mustered that same unshakable conviction so easily.

Then again, it had taken loss after loss after loss, his father outright confessing his ill intentions concerning Nohr, and the subsequent knowledge that he was actively damaging his relationships with Laslow and Peri to make Xander change his mind. Leo had only needed two of those things before he’d thought better of his actions. Leo often had a clearer head than anyone. So maybe his retainers were as reliable as he believed.

For Leo’s sake, he hoped Leo was telling himself the truth.

“Laslow and Peri are the same,” Xander said. “Whatever we do next, they’ve said they’ll support me.”

“Good,” Leo said. “If what Corrin said is true, then we don’t have long to bolster our forces before the skies change. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

“Correct,” Xander said. “Remember everything I said before? We should still do exactly as I said, but we’ll make a few adjustments regarding…”

“We f-finally—” Odin heaved between breaths, “—caught up with you.” He coughed once, his face pink with exertion. He, along with the rest of the group, looked and sounded as though they had run the whole way to the battlefield. “Why… Why would you… leave us behind?”

Niles chuckled, managing to sound marginally less out of breath. “Perhaps our liege is a fan of seeing us suffer? I can understand that.”

From atop her horse, Peri loudly sniffed. “Bah! You are all so slow! If I’d left a river of blood in my wake like I normally do, you’d be swallowed by it!”

Laslow’s cheeks looked even more flushed than Odin’s. He laughed and sounded more genuine than he should have when he said, “Thanks for not leaving a river of blood for us, Peri! You’re the absolute best!”

Peri looked somewhat cheered by the praise.

Although it hadn’t been that long since Xander and Leo had—perhaps somewhat hastily, he could now admit to himself—abandoned their horse-less retainers in order to catch up with Corrin faster, Xander felt better knowing Peri and Laslow had finally joined them.

In contrast, Corrin’s eyes were wide when they looked over to the new group. “More reinforcements?”

Leo sighed heavily, although his acting was not quite good enough to disguise how happy he was to see his retainers as well.

“It took the four of you long enough,” he said.

“Don’t worry, Corrin,” Xander said. “These late arrivals are retainers to myself and to Leo.”

Corrin looked a little emboldened at that. They nodded seriously as each of the newcomers went down the line introducing themselves. Despite keeping an eye out for any enemies that might have wanted to stray into their brief pocket of peace on the battlefield, Xander’s ears couldn’t help but perk up when it came time for Laslow’s introduction.

“I’m Laslow. I’m one of Lord Xander’s retainers. I know that our paths crossed once before, but I will fight by your side now.”

There was a rustle of fabric as Laslow bowed. Xander watched him out of the corner of his eye.

A beat passed. Laslow averted his gaze from Corrin’s face and smiled awkwardly. “…That’s all. Please. It’s a bit embarrassing to be stared at by everyone…”

“I’m Peri!” Peri jumped in, taking the attention off Laslow. Corrin smiled at her pleasantly.

Although Peri continued her enthusiastic introduction with a, ah, _descriptive_ use of all the ways the letters of her name stood for violent words, Xander couldn’t help but continue looking at Laslow. His introduction had been so much more subdued than Xander had expected from him. Especially not with all the complaints he regularly received about Laslow making a menace of himself to the local women in town.

The memory of Laslow dancing all alone in the woods flashed through Xander’s mind. Ignoring the brief tightness that squeezed his chest, he realized that Laslow was perhaps a lot shyer than Xander gave him credit for. He was never that subdued when he interacted with Peri. Certainly never when it was just Xander and Laslow alone in a room together.

That knowledge felt a bit... strange. Privileged, perhaps.

Xander cleared his throat and got back into the battle.

Despite how unnatural it felt to be branded as a traitor to the kingdom he’d been groomed to protect since birth, Xander felt surprisingly positive about his decision to join Corrin’s side.

They had been right all along. There really was a third enemy out there, sowing distrust between Nohr and Hoshido when they should have been sowing friendship instead.

When he looked out of his tent and saw Corrin surrounded by the smiling faces of their siblings, looked up to as a leader by both sides—

Well, after a lifetime of sitting alone in a tower with only a handful of servants for company, it felt like a good scene to witness for more reason than one.

Although Xander didn’t know how this would all end just yet, he couldn’t help but feel he had made the right decision.

It turned out that Laslow agreed with him wholeheartedly.

“I would have stayed with you no matter what, milord,” Laslow was quick to assure him over a cup of tea that night, when Xander brought the subject up. “It’s just… I’m very glad you chose to come together again.”

“As am I,” Xander said, taking a sip from his own cup. “Although I appreciate yours and Peri’s loyalty regarding my decision as well. Given all I’m sure you heard about our father from Leo and I over the past few days, I’m sure you wouldn’t have wanted to stay behind—”

Laslow smiled sheepishly.

“—but being branded traitor is not and will not be easy either. So I appreciate your commitment to the cause. To me.”

Laslow’s eyes fluttered as he looked down at his cup, his expression pleased. The air felt lighter between them now than it had been in weeks. Xander couldn’t remember how they had found themselves sitting on the floor of Xander’s tent together so casually that night, but he didn’t particularly want to question it either.

“I pledged my loyalty to you, Lord Xander,” Laslow said after a moment. “Wherever you go, I said I would follow. I don’t like to break my promises.” He looked up, his expression jovial but still somewhat serious. “I’m going to protect you until I die. Or until you release me from your service. Whichever comes first. Even if that means being branded traitor by a kingdom or two.”

Laslow laughed like any of what he’d just said was funny. Xander merely inclined his head.

Voice light, he said, “Given that you told me you’d try not to die anytime soon and that I do not intend to grant you your freedom in the near future either, I hope I should take that to mean you will continue to live by my side for quite a while yet.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Laslow mused. His eyes were half-lidded, but the serious undercurrent to his voice told Xander that he had caught on to how sincere Xander’s reminder had been as well. “Hm. Fair enough point.”

“As a matter of fact, you promised,” Xander said.

That wasn’t strictly true. Laslow hadn’t said the words _I promise_ verbatim when Xander had implored him not to suffer the same fate his previous retainers and dear friends had, but he’d said he’d do his best and Xander intended to hold him to that.

Rather than call him out, Laslow agreed again. “So I did.”

Xander sipped his tea, content.

“But you know,” Laslow said, turning his cup around in his hands slowly, “I would feel better about making that sort of promise if you also promised to live, my lord. Of course, I’m quite attached to my own skin, but I’d never let anything ghastly like death befall you while I could still do something about it. So if you promise not to die either, that would really make it a lot easier to keep my promise as well.”

He smiled cheekily, as though a flash of his teeth could make his words come across as less measured than they did.

“That’s a promise I can’t make,” Xander said regretfully. “I have a duty to my kingdom and now to Corrin. I have to fight for them, no matter the cost. Even if that cost should be my own life.”

“And I have a duty to you, milord,” Laslow pointed out.

Without wondering as to why, Xander braced himself for a sudden tightness in his chest, for his lungs to flood with flower petals, choking him. But it didn’t happen.

In fact, Xander felt surprisingly light. Perhaps lighter than he should have, considering that they were in enemy territory.

Laslow held his gaze.

“Then,” Xander said slowly, “between the two of us looking out for one another, we should hopefully be just fine.”

“Hopefully,” Laslow echoed. He was smiling.

They drank a lot of tea that night.

“It’s like you get worse every year,” Laslow said, looking somewhat distraught as Xander coughed into his elbow late that morning. “Should I be speaking with an apothecary about this? Those medicines I gave you before didn’t seem to work, but…”

By some miracle, Xander’s coughs were entirely dry. He scrutinized his sleeve carefully for any stray petals that might have passed his lips before carefully lowering his arm.

“I’m fine the rest of the year,” he said. “It’s just spring that does this to me. I’ll be fine in due time.”

“If you say so,” Laslow said, still sounding uncertain. “In battle, though—”

His coughs had been dry and empty, but just standing next to Laslow made his chest ache for some reason. Xander turned away.

“I will be _fine_ ,” he repeated, somewhat more forcefully.

Finally, Laslow relented, and he and Xander went to join the others in preparing for the arduous day ahead of them.

Laslow had been right, however. Xander knew it, although he didn’t want to dwell on it much. His coughing really was getting worse.

Elise hadn’t said it was fatal, however, and none of the readings Xander had ever come across over the years had contradicted that assertion either. So it would be fine. He just had to be more vigilant in battle, more careful not to let the weakness in his lungs overcome his battle instincts. Not that it ever had before, of course.

Later, if Xander had been a more superstitious man, he would have reflected on that exact thought as tempting fate.

_“It feels like this forest goes on forever,”_ Corrin had said.

The shock of seeing Azura’s mother, a walking corpse bound in servitude to Anankos, had cause him to briefly forget how expansive and endless the forest felt. Now, surrounded by endless rows of trees and the watery silhouettes of invisible enemies, Xander couldn’t have agreed more.

He had lost sight of Corrin and most of the others some time ago. The distant clangs of swords against shields told Xander that they weren’t actually that far away, but the thickness of the tress and other brush obscured his vision too much to spot most of his allies.

Xander had somehow been corralled into a small pocket in the trees, Ryoma and Laslow on either side of him. He had no idea where Ryoma’s retainers or Peri had gotten off to. No matter. Xander trusted Laslow explicitly, and Ryoma was quickly proving himself to be quite exceptional with a sword as well.

Even with their help, however, fighting Anankos’s invisible army set him on edge.

Usually Xander fought from atop a horse, but he’d been taking the forest on foot for at least an hour before finding the puppet Arete. The forest terrain made horse travel too cumbersome to be effective, and Xander didn’t like how long it took to turn when invisible enemies were creeping up around him on all sides. There was no time to worry about where Ferdinand had ended up now. He could only hope the horse would be fine when the battle was done.

Xander swung Siegfried and felt it connect with something solid. He gritted his teeth.

“Damn,” he hissed under his breath. Without the ability to see them, it was difficult to tell when Anankos’s puppets were down for the count or not. Xander turned, eyes straining for the telltale shimmer in the air.

“On your left!” Laslow shouted.

Xander turned back, but Laslow was already there, deflecting the incoming blow. He heard more than saw the clash of sword against sword, but the way Laslow was pushed back by the deflected hit told Xander all he needed to know about the strength of the enemy.

“Laslow—”

“I won’t allow it!” Laslow shouted. His blade was a graceful flurry of movement, and then suddenly the shimmer Xander had just barely spotted disappeared.

Laslow breathed out a sigh of relief and turned. There was a tiny cut on his cheek from where a dagger or the tip of a blade might have gotten too close to his face while fighting.

“Are you alright, Lord Xander?” he asked.

Xander felt as though he was going to be sick.

“I’m fine,” he somehow managed to grit out, despite the growing pressure in his throat. “Thank you for that.”

Laslow winked. “Well, we did make a promise the other night, didn’t we? It would be a shame to break it so soon.”

_Oh._

Oh, _no_.

There was a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, and Xander turned instinctively, blade raised to block the incoming swing. Although he deflected it perfectly, Xander still grunted under the force of the blow.

“Lord Xan—"

“Go!” Xander choked out, pushing the enemy away from him with a thrust of his sword. “Prince Ryoma and I will be fine from here on out! Go help Corrin and Azura!”

Laslow was there at Xander’s side in an instant. “No offense, my lord, but leaving the two crown princes alone right now doesn’t seem like such a good idea!”

“They’re not after us! They’re after Corrin and Azura! Go!”

“Lord Xander, I—”

“We’ll be fine,” Ryoma jumped in. Xander had no idea why he did. Laslow was absolutely right that they needed all the help they could get at the moment. It didn’t make sense for Ryoma to support him in this, but he was grateful. “Listen to your liege, Laslow. Find Corrin!”

Laslow wavered.

The pressure was building in Xander’s lungs. “That’s an _order_ , Laslow.”

Finally, Laslow listened. If they hadn’t been in the middle of a battle, Xander’s shoulders would have sagged in relief. Laslow listened to orders more often than he didn’t, but it would have been just typical of him to choose the worst moment to disobey. It felt like a miracle that Laslow turned and ran off into the trees when he did.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that.

Lips pressed together tightly and lungs straining, Xander swung at a watery presence, using more instinct than refinement. Miraculously, he felt his sword hit home. The feeling of an evil presence standing before him suddenly dissipated as Siegfried cleaved through whatever figure Anankos had been puppeteering.

He couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Xander doubled over, heaving and unable to catch his breath. The sound of Ryoma continuing to fight carried on in the background as Xander coughed, coughed, _coughed_ what felt like a full lung onto the dry forest floor. He barely managed to keep a grip on Siegfried’s hilt until the worst had passed.

“Prince Xander! Are you—” Ryoma clasped Xander’s shoulder in an attempt to keep him upright, and his breath audibly caught when he saw what Xander could no longer keep hidden. Xander felt Ryoma let go and step back. “Those flowers—”

They weren’t little petals this time, torn and wet from being stuck in Xander’s throat for too long. Xander grimaced.

This time he had managed to hack up whole, huge flowers. And there was no mistaking what they were.

There were enough blue forget-me-nots at Xander’s feet to make a full bouquet on their own. In the center of the mess sat a full, singular peony, as lush as it was beautiful. Its edges glistened with spit somewhat disgustingly. It seemed impossible to fathom how Xander had managed to keep any one of them inside of him for any length of time.

Then again, he supposed he hadn’t. The moment he’d felt the new pressure in his chest, that had been it. He’d instantly given in. The full flowers, not just the petals, must have bloomed the instant Xander had realized—

“Prince Xander,” Ryoma said cautiously. His hand hovered around Xander’s shoulder.

Xander shook his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Forget about this for now. We have to regroup with the others.”

“Are you certain?” Ryoma asked. He looked concerned. “I believe that was the last of them. This area may be safe for the moment, if you need time to…”

Clearly, he was at a loss for words. Xander was grateful for his attempt at diplomacy, but there was no time for that now.

“I will be fine,” he said. “I promise that I will not be a burden while we fight.”

“I’m not worried about _that_.” Ryoma frowned harder. “Should I take your earlier request to mean that your retainers are unaware of your… predicament?”

Xander breathed out through his nose. This was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. “Yes. And I would appreciate it if it remained that way.”

“Of course,” Ryoma said, much to Xander’s relief. “You have my word. Although…”

Ryoma looked hesitant. He waited for Xander’s nod to continue to speak.

“If it has progressed to this stage, I don’t expect you will be able to hide your condition for long,” he said.

“Truth be told, this is the first time there have ever been… full flowers,” Xander said, grimacing. He wasn’t exactly sure how to explain himself—had modeled his behavior over the past few years to avoid doing exactly that, actually—but Ryoma nodded understandingly. Since the disease had been named in Hoshido, Xander wondered if perhaps Ryoma had more experience with Hanahaki than Xander had originally thought. “It shouldn’t be our focus for the moment, however. I will do my best to keep this a secret for now. Until we have defeated Anankos, at least.”

He glanced in the direction Laslow had run. The sounds of fighting were even more distant than before.

“Thank you for telling Laslow to leave a moment ago, by the way. I know it put us at a disadvantage. However…”

“Of course,” Ryoma said, much to Xander’s relief. “I could tell your request was urgent, although I didn’t understand why you wanted him to leave until just now. I am perfectly capable of protecting both you and myself at the same time while you are incapacitated, however.”

Ryoma’s last comment was clearly intended to be taken as lighthearted teasing, although there was an undercurrent of familiar rivalry in his tone as well.

“I can assure you that it will not happen again,” Xander said, straightening. “And you may find yourself surprised at how capable I am of taking care of myself in the midst of a battle as well, with or without the impediment of a few flowers.”

Ryoma grinned. “I look forward to seeing more of that Nohrian fighting spirit then.”

“And I, yours.”

They shook hands.

Then, without speaking, they both knew it was time to return to the battle at hand.

They took off towards the sounds of violence.

What might not have been true years ago had now irreversibly, irredeemably become the truth Xander had denied for so long.

He loved Laslow.

He was _in love_ with Laslow.

So much so that it made him sick. That it left him wheezing on his bedroll that night, struggling to catch his breath while his lungs nursed piles and piles of blue and red flowers growing along the walls of his lungs like mocking veins.

The tent flap parted. A soft voice said, “Lord Xander? Do you need anything before Peri and I retire for the night?”

“No, thank you,” Xander said in the clearest tone he could manage. “I will be all right. Go rest.”

“Understood,” Laslow whispered, as though he wanted to disturb Xander as little as possible. “Goodnight, my lord.”

“…Goodnight.”

The tent flap closed. Xander could barely wait until Laslow’s footsteps had begun to fade before he began weakly coughing into his fist.

It was so difficult to be quiet. Xander couldn’t cough the way he needed without drawing attention to himself, stuck in the middle of camp as he was, and he couldn’t leave camp so late at night lest he wanted word to get around that he was going off by himself for some secretive reason either. Assuming he didn’t get attacked by some of Anankos’s forces the moment he left camp as well.

It would have been so much easier to just reach into his lungs and pluck the vile things by the roots himself. After the last hour or so of keeping the flowers choked down, Xander was half tempted to do just that.

He restrained himself. Barely.

When the war was over. That’s when he would take care of this problem. It could wait until then.

He didn’t know how or what Laslow’s response would even be if Xander told him, but—

Later. After the war. After Anankos was gone. Then Xander would worry about it more.

For now, he resigned himself to a few sleepless nights with a heavy chest.

“Impossible…” Takumi gasped. “This is… impossible. There’s no way we can defeat that…”

Xander wiped the sweat from his brow and felt inclined to agree. Simply clearing a path through Anankos’s puppets so Corrin could attack with the Omega Yato had been grueling enough. Between seeing Father devoured and now witnessing Anankos’s true form—a great, hulking beast of unimaginable proportions and power—

Everything had been for naught, he realized.

“Damn it!” Leo cursed, squinting against the sharp winds that blew past them every time Anankos flapped his shredded wings. “What can we possibly do? The world is done for…”

Sweat dripped down Xander’s brow.

“Hah. Fate is a funny thing.” He looked towards Ryoma and found him looking back, his jaw squared. “I never thought my final moments would be alongside a Hosidan prince.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Ryoma said. His sword was out, and his and Xander’s stances were mirrored. Still ready to fight despite the odds, it seemed. They both had too much pride for that. “But I won’t die so easily. If our time has come, I’ll meet it on my feet!”

Azura, who had been knocked over when Anankos blew the top of the castle off, pushed herself onto unsteady feet. “It can’t be… Have we truly failed? Was everything for naught?”

“No!” Corrin said loudly. Every head snapped in their direction as they spoke, their voice sounding miles more confident than anyone else’s at the moment. “Don’t give up! No matter how massive this dragon seems, we can win as long as we work together! Don’t stop believing in yourselves! We’ve fought too hard to give up now!”

The odds were surely stacked against them, but the conviction in Corrin’s voice made Xander stand a little taller despite the bruises he’d already gained.

“Corrin…” he breathed.

Ryoma looked somewhat steadied. “Of course.”

“We won’t back down!” Corrin shouted. “This is my—this is _our_ destiny! Ready your weapons! Fight for your friends! With the Seal of Flames… With the Fire Emblem on our side! We fight for our world!”

A chorus of cheers echoed behind them, every one of their scared friends and family members instantly swallowing their fear and taking heart in Corrin’s encouragement. There was no possible way for Xander to pick out Laslow’s voice in the crowd, but he imagined he could anyway and took strength in the sound.

Corrin was right. As always.

Despite his uncertainty, Xander felt a grin creeping along his features.

They had kingdoms to protect. Beyond that, the world. Their family. Friends. Each other.

Anankos roared, and the very ground shook beneath their feet at the sound.

Corrin charged forward. Xander followed.

It was time to dance on the edge of fate once more.

The floating sphere that had once been Anankos shuddered and shook. Its eyes rolled. Dark miasma steamed from every crack in its surface as whole flakes of rocky flesh flaked away from the orb. One moment the remains of Anankos were there, and the next, they were gone.

All at once, the battlefield went still.

Xander could not tear his eyes away from the empty space where Anankos had been a moment before, but he felt the threatening presence of invisible enemies dotted around the battlefield slowly begin to fade away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his fellow soldiers begin to lower their weapons.

“Did we do it?” Corrin’s voice echoed across the still battlefield. “Did we beat the Silent Dragon?”

“Yes,” Azura said steadily. “Anankos has been destroyed.”

The battlefield erupted into cheers and shouts. With exhaustion and relief pumping through his veins in equal measure, Xander stowed Siegfried and began making his way towards his siblings.

“We did it! I feel so incredibly happy right now!” Elise cheered.

Sakura was practically in tears next to her. “M-me too! I’m so happy!”

Leo brushed a sweaty lock of hair away from his forehead. “I was honestly worried how things were going for a moment…”

“It all worked out,” Takumi said to him, rubbing at his cheek and succeeding only in smearing a line of dirt further across his face.

He might have said more to Leo if Odin and Niles hadn’t immediately swallowed him in hugs from behind, fussing over this and that and _How are you feeling, my lord?_ and _Lord Leo! You looked so… cool!_ overlapping with Leo’s flustered _Get off me, you dolts!_

Takumi rolled his eyes, looking not quite actually annoyed, and addressed the rest of the group with a smile. “We were able to win because we all worked together.”

Camilla nodded in agreement, looking exhausted but pleased.

“Now the world is safe again,” she said, pulling Corrin into a close hug, which Corrin stumbled into. “All thanks to our darling Corrin.”

“This feeling of relief…” Hinoka tilted her head back to look at the stars above. “It’s very much like flying.”

Xander had been too busy admiring his siblings to realize Ryoma was nearly upon him until he felt a hand clasping his shoulder.

“The battle is over, Prince Xander,” Ryoma said. “We have won.”

He didn’t fail to catch the way Ryoma’s gaze lingered on his throat, nor the way Ryoma tilted his head in question. Xander shook his head in answer. Ryoma nodded solemnly. The whole exchange took less than a second.

Out loud, Xander said, “We have, Prince Ryoma. We’ve restored peace to the world together.”

They smiled at each other, and Xander felt as though the world was entering a new era.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Corrin squirrel their way out of Camilla’s arms and make their way over to Azura, who was kneeling on the ground. They shared a few quiet words with each other that Xander didn’t try to eavesdrop on.

Ryoma moved to speak directly to Takumi and Hinoka, so Xander pulled away from him as well. There were people he needed to check up on as well.

Elise seemed too busy swinging Sakura around in celebratory circles to pay much mind to what everyone else was doing, but Xander made sure she caught the smile he sent her way before moving on to make sure Camilla was okay. They only spoke for a moment before her retainers assaulted her as well, Selena fussing over Camilla and demanding praise in turns while Beruka’s hawk eyes scanned every inch of Camilla for signs of injury. Xander trusted that his siblings were in capable hands and turned away.

After that, he made sure to clasp Corrin on the shoulder and whisper a few words of encouragement once it appeared their conversation with Azura was drawing to a close. He didn’t linger for long, sure they had people they needed to check up on now that the battle was over—and others who wanted to check up on them as well. It was impossible to miss how eagerly Jakob and Felicia were waiting on the sidelines for Corrin to have a moment alone so they could step in an check them over, for example. And when Xander took his leave for the moment, it wasn’t a surprise when they did just that.

Leo looked rather preoccupied with his retainers still, so Xander didn’t want to interrupt. He was fairly sure they would have made a scene if Leo had so much of a scratch on his head anyway. An interaction between himself and Leo could wait another few minutes, surely. And the Hoshido royal family looked rather preoccupied with themselves and their own retainers as well.

Speaking of which—

Xander scanned the crowd behind him, but he didn’t immediately see his retainers through the crowd of allies gathered behind them. Not being able to see Laslow wasn’t entirely a surprise; there were a lot of foot soldiers milling about, and Laslow wasn’t a particularly tall fellow. Peri, with her cotton-candy hair and presumably still atop her horse, shouldn’t have been too difficult to spot amongst the crowd, but Xander didn’t see her either.

He frowned. Through some inexplicable circumstance, it didn’t _seem_ like anybody was too badly wounded. The healers they had were clearly checking over those around them, but nobody seemed to be in too much of a rush.

Still, he couldn’t help but worry. The memory of what happened to his previous retainers flashed behind his eyes.

If anything had happened to Peri—

If anything had happened to _Laslow_ —

Xander’s throat became suddenly very scratchy.

They were fine, he told himself. Just fine.

The urge to cough did not subside.

Perhaps, if he slipped away for just the briefest of moments, he could—

“Lord Xander!” The clip-clop hoofbeats of Peri’s horse gave her away just a second before she leapt down in front of him. Although her timing left something to be desired, Xander relaxed the moment he saw her flushed face. “Is it really over? We did it?”

“It’s over,” Xander assured her, swallowing around the ticklish feeling of petals in his throat. He could keep it down for now, surely.

“Yay!” Peri cheered. “Those invisible guys were the worst! They didn’t play fair at all. And they didn’t even bleed right either! I’m so happy they’re all gone!”

“As am I, Peri.” He patted her on the shoulder, gingerly checking for injuries, but Peri looked hale and hearty as ever, if a bit dirty. He couldn’t help but ask: “Have you seen Laslow anywhere?”

“He was right next to me almost the whole battle,” Peri said. “He kept saying I should go protect you instead, but you looked really cool killing so many enemies like that, so I wasn’t worried that much.”

“I see. Good job on all the fighting you did then.” Xander looked around. “And where is he now?”

“Right behind me. I think?” Peri looked over her shoulder for him, but she shrugged and looked back to Xander rather quickly. “Or maybe not. He doesn’t have a horse anyway, so he’s always so _slow_.”

“I’ll look for him then,” Xander said. “You did good work today. Please, go get yourself checked over.”

“Huh? But I’m fine!”

Thankfully, rather than argue with her a bit longer, Kaze stepped between them.

“Pardon me, Lord Xander,” Kaze said. “I hope you are doing well.”

Xander nodded in acknowledgement. “I am. Thank you. I’m glad to see you uninjured as well.”

“Thank you,” Kaze said. “My apologies for interrupting, but would you mind if I spoke to Peri for a moment? I wanted to thank her for saving my life during the battle.”

“Huh?” Peri blinked owlishly. “When did I do that?”

Thankfully, Kaze didn’t seem very offended. “You don’t recall? It was when you smacked that dagger out of mid-air with your lance. I didn’t even see it coming, but you…”

Assured that Peri was in good hands, Xander stepped back from the conversation. His eyes scanned the crowds once more, this time once again unsuccessfully.

Factually, he knew Peri wouldn’t have left Laslow behind if he’d really been injured, but he still couldn’t help but worry. He couldn’t see Laslow anywhere.

He lightly coughed into his fist. It didn’t do much to relieve the pressure building in his chest, although it did soothe the tickle in his throat just a little. Now would have been a convenient moment to clear his lungs in private, but he couldn’t bring himself to move until he found Laslow.

“Lord Xander!”

Speak of the devil.

Laslow squeezed his way through the crowd somewhat haphazardly, calling out quick excuses and apologies as he stumbled past a tightly clumped group of allies in an effort to get to Xander faster.

Without thinking, Xander grabbed Laslow by the arms and hauled him close. Laslow let out a small yelp as he lost his footing, tumbling into Xander’s armored chest, but he righted himself quickly enough.

“Lord Xander?” Laslow said in a somewhat strangled voice.

He looked up at Xander with wide eyes, his fingers loosely curled around Xander’s forearms. The expression on his face made it clear he was confused, but he didn’t pull away from Xander immediately. Whether out of surprise or confusion, Xander was thankful.

“Are you hurt?” Xander asked, his words slipping out a little faster than he intended. “I looked for you, but I was so close to the front lines, I…”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Laslow said. “I kept trying to reach you, but without a horse, it was difficult to get anywhere. Not with those invisible enemies popping up all over the place. I tried to send Peri to you—”

“She told me.”

They were verbally tripping over one another. Xander closed his mouth. His eyes scanned every inch of Laslow’s face, cataloguing every detail he found there. The gentle curve of his eyelids. The tiny nick of a scar on his chin, so small it might have been from shaving or some other miniscule injury. The lock of hair on his forehead that he twisted around and around on his finger when he was nervous.

How many times had they looked at each other like this? How many times had Xander taken the lack of distance between them for granted? How long had Xander been blind to his own feelings?

It had taken five years to get to this point. Although Xander didn’t think he’d been lying about his what he felt for Laslow back then either. Even when Xander hadn’t been in love with him, however, there had been something there, clearly. Something his heart recognized long before his brain had. Potential, at the very least.

His chest hurt.

“Thank you,” Xander said, “for keeping your promise.”

Laslow breathed in and smiled. “Thank you for keeping yours.”

His fingers slotted between the gaps in Xander’s forearm armor and squeezed. Xander remembered how thin his wrists had looked, how fine they’d appeared, the first time he’d caught Laslow dancing among the brush and moonlight all those years ago. Now, he knew very well how deceptively strong Laslow truly was underneath his flirty, irresponsible façade.

No. It wasn’t a façade.

His obnoxious flirtations, his soft-spoken embarrassment, his fighting prowess, his peace-loving heart, his childish whining, his doting behavior, his aversion to answering too many personal questions at once, his stolid dedication to Xander above all else—

Those contradictory characteristics all belonged to the same man. There was no separating one facet from another; as contrary as they were, every one of those features belonged to Laslow, and Xander hadn’t realized just how deeply he appreciated the man’s strange mix of frustrating and confusing qualities until that moment.

“Laslow,” Xander said unsteadily, “I understand this might not be the best time, but there’s something I need to tell you. I—"

“Lord Xander,” Laslow murmured.

It felt as though someone were trying to strangle him from the inside out.

Xander’s throat seized. He stumbled back from Laslow, head bowed, unable to catch his breath.

“My lord!” Laslow cried, stepping back. “Is it your allergies? Was Selena right? Do you have asthma? We need a healer—”

Xander reached up blindly and grabbed Laslow’s wrist, squeezing.

“I’m— _fine_ ,” he wheezed. He felt Laslow clutch his hand back.

“You most certainly are not!”

Xander couldn’t reply. He was too busy coughing to speak.

He could hear shocked cries and questions from surrounding family members and allies. Ryoma’s low commands drowned them all out. Xander couldn’t quite hear what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. Whatever was happening around them, nobody was throwing themselves between Laslow and Xander, and that was all that mattered for the moment.

“Here, lean on me,” Laslow said. Coughing, Xander did. Despite the differences in their height, Laslow supported him well. “Can you breathe? Should I be doing something? Lord Xander, I don’t—What’s Prince Ryoma talking about?”

Despite his rapid-fire questioning, Laslow was also patting Xander’s back through his armor. The gesture was also probably more comforting to Laslow than genuinely helpful given how Xander could barely feel him through the armor, but he appreciated the attempt anyway.

“Laslow, I’m—”

He retched, full flower buds falling to the cracked ground castle floor. Forget-me-not after peony after forget-me-not piled up around their feet. Laslow kept patting his back and whispering words that might have been soothing.

Xander coughed and coughed until finally, wrung out, it was over.

Slowly, tentatively, he straightened.

A hush had fallen over the battlefield. Even Laslow’s concerned questions had fallen silent at the sight of the plant growth that had been thriving in Xander’s lungs.

“Lord Xander…” Laslow breathed. His wide-eyed gaze was pinned to the flowers.

“Laslow,” Xander said, his strained voice just enough to call Laslow’s attention back to him. “I apologize. This wasn’t how I wanted to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Laslow gasped. “Are you _dying_? Cursed?”

Xander steeled himself to reveal the truth. “Neither. Do you know what Hanahaki is?”

Laslow furrowed his brows. His typical smile had slipped off his face some time ago. “That’s… a disease, right? I think I’ve heard of it. But I don’t really…”

“Do you know what it’s caused by?”

“I think…” Laslow frowned as though he were deep in thought. “It’s a magical disease, right?” At Xander’s nod of encouragement, he continued. “I don’t really know much about that sort of—Wait.” He straightened slightly. “Isn’t Hanahaki caused by…”

He cut himself off with a gasp.

“You mean…” The look Laslow shot him was nothing short of startled incredulity. “ _Me?_ Really?”

Xander’s heart lurched. Somewhere behind him, several people gasped. Murmurs began. He saw the way Laslow flushed, eyes darting around as though he were becoming increasingly aware of how surrounded they were. Xander did his best to ignore them.

“I will not begrudge you for not feeling the same way,” he said as diplomatically as he could manage while he felt something shrivel and die in his chest. “Obviously this was not the best of circumstances for a private conversation. I meant to tell you at a more convenient time for both of us.”

Laslow swallowed.

“Lord Xander,” he said.

“Not to tell you that I was in love with you,” Xander clarified. “I am referring to the Hanahaki. I’ve kept it secret for so long—through no fault of yours or anyone else for not noticing, of course. There had always seemed to be more important things going on. I had resolved myself to take care of the matter once the war was over, but obviously I did not intend to take care of it like this.”

“Lord Xander.”

“I… suppose it might be gone now.” Xander frowned. He took a deliberate deep breath and marveled at how clear his chest felt. It was easier to breathe now than it had been in days. “I’ve been told it’s a disease that thrives on repression. Such wording is vague, I know. However, I have read that—"

“Xander!” Laslow cried.

Xander shut his mouth with an audible click

Before he could apologize for the way his nerves had uncharacteristically gotten the best of him or marvel at the volume of Laslow’s voice, however, Laslow grabbed Xander by the chest plate and wrenched him down, smashing their mouths together.

It was a clumsy, unrefined kiss. Laslow’s nerves were apparent through the unyielding pressure of his lips, and Xander was too surprised to do anything but let it happen.

Less than a second later, Laslow pushed Xander back and stepped away.

Xander stared. Laslow’s cheeks had reached an even deeper state of red—a shade so dark that Xander worried Laslow was on the verge of passing out.

Laslow coughed into his fist, averting his eyes. “I, ah, hope that gets the message across, milord. You can stop now.”

Xander couldn’t stop staring. Laslow self-consciously put his head in his hands, seemingly unable to tear his gaze from the ground.

“Ah—” His voice wavered. “Everyone’s looking at me…”

They might have been, although Xander didn’t particularly care at this point.

Clearly Laslow did, however, so Xander turned heel and barked, “We will be leaving this area and returning to our previous campsite in the next ten minutes! Gather your allies and weapons, and prepare to be off!”

“Xander,” Corrin said, stepping forward. “Don’t you think that’s a little fast? Everyone is probably…”

“To be fair—” Ryoma placed a hand on Corrin’s shoulder. “It’s probably not safe to spend the night here. We should find a somewhat more stable base camp to regroup in for now. Or at the very least, a less lumpy one.” He not so subtly eyed the rubble surrounding them.

“That is true…” Corrin relented.

Next to Corrin, Azura quietly began directing stragglers away from the area. Peri was in the midst of loudly complaining about the fact she was being forced away, but thankfully Kaze had the wherewithal to calmly direct her back to her horse as well.

Ryoma had come to the rescue yet again. Xander frowned. Although he appreciated the support, this was yet another incident he’d have to make up for later to prove the crown prince of Hoshido did not need to constantly be coming to Nohr’s rescue.

“Now, now, everyone,” Camilla said, sending Xander an unmistakable look. “Let’s give Xander some space and not linger for too long.”

Next to her, Takumi made disbelieving face. Then Leo muttered some quip under his breath that drew Takumi’s attention, and Xander saw Elise dragging Sakura and Hinoka in another direction as well.

“How…”

Xander looked back. Laslow looked marginally less ready to keel over from embarrassment, but it was a near thing.

Laslow cleared his throat and tried again. He nudged a peony with his boot. “How long has this been going on?”

“Five years, give or take,” Xander replied. “Although I didn’t realize the full extent of my feelings until recently.”

Laslow yelped. “ _Five_ —”

He cut himself off with a strangled sound and covered his face once more. Although his embarrassment was rightfully apparent, Xander thought he looked ever so slightly pleased as well.

“We can talk about this later,” Xander said.

Face mostly hidden, Laslow nodded. “That. Sounds good. Yeah.”

Xander instinctively offered his hand. His heart swelled as Laslow slowly uncovered his face and took it.

In the privacy of Xander’s tent, Laslow had grown significantly more confidant. Xander almost regretted the change of scenery, given how bold it had suddenly made Laslow. Almost.

“You seriously didn’t think anything of flowers growing in your lungs for part of the year?” Laslow asked, despite already knowing the answer. His grin was broad and his eyes mirthful. He liked teasing. “For _five years_?”

“You make it sound so ridiculous,” Xander said stiffly. “It wasn’t as terrible as you make it out to be. They were only petals until this week.”

“Even so…” Laslow shook his head. “You really let it go on for years? Without saying anything to anyone? Ever?”

Xander bristled. He’d received enough pointed comments about his condition from Leo and Camilla on the way back to camp.

“It wasn’t like I was in love with you that _entire_ time,” he pointed out. “I certainly wasn’t in love with you when we first met. That would have been purely irrational.”

“Except you _were_ ,” Laslow said triumphantly. “You can’t even deny it! You were coughing up petals six months in!”

For a second Xander thought about saying something witty and perhaps rude. He wasn’t used to such pointed teasing.

He gathered up his years of etiquette training and kept his expression even instead. “To be fair, anyone who saw you dance like that probably would have fallen a little in love on the spot as well.”

Laslow sputtered. Success.

“You really—” Laslow sputtered. Success, Xander thought. “That’s—”

His cheeks glowed pink with embarrassment. Xander could see a hint of pink bleeding into his chest through the collar of his shirt as well. Somehow it wasn’t a surprise to find that Laslow was a full-body blusher.

“Not so smug now, I see,” he said.

“Milord truly has no sympathy for the plights of others,” Laslow whined, turning away.

Some of the satisfaction slipped from Xander’s face. He reached up and, taking Laslow’s wrist in his hand, gently pried Laslow’s hand away from his face.

“You don’t have to call me that anymore,” he said in reply to Laslow’s curious look. “At least, not in private. Assuming you are still amenable to this.”

In spite of his apparent mortification second before, Laslow did not hesitate in darting across the space between them and pressing a quick kiss against Xander’s lips. He had kissed Xander several times since the return to camp. He was surprisingly tactile for a man so easily flustered.

“Of course I am,” Laslow said earnestly. He’d twisted his wrist around in Xander’s grasp so that they were now holding hands. Xander squeezed his palm gratefully.

“I am the crown prince,” he said, and both of them carefully did not mention the fact he would likely be king upon return to Nohr as well. The finality of Father’s loss was still too fresh, although Xander knew now that he’d probably been gone for a lot longer than that. “I do not want to pressure you into an arrangement you cannot in good conscious accept. And if we are together, it should be as equals. Although of course there are things to be discussed regarding the leadership of Nohr as well, among other things.”

Xander grimaced, old fears once again rearing their head. Laslow’s face replaced the nameless face of the imaginary person he always assumed he would marry out of political obligation, likely at the behest of his father. Would they have enough time together? Would Laslow be able to adapt to the pressures of ruling? Would Xander be forced to choose Nohr over his spouse time after time until it ruined them?

He was brought out of those thoughts as Laslow lifted the back of Xander’s hand to his mouth and kissed the skin there.

“And I won’t pretend that there aren’t some things we will probably have to discuss more in depth later. I don’t know if I can be your retainer as well as your… partner.” Laslow smiled sheepishly as Xander nodded, making a mental note to discuss Laslow’s official title with him later. “But I’m sure we can work all that out. It might not be _easy_ , but countless others before you and I have managed, so I figure our chances can’t be too terrible.”

“You sound rather confidant in that,” Xander said.

Laslow shrugged, still smiling lopsidedly. “You’ve always been fairly capable, and I’ve always been fairly charming.” His smile broadened at Xander’s unimpressed stare. “So, please, have some faith, milord.”

Xander didn’t call him out on the title this time. “In that case, I will be holding you to the same standard of faith. We can keep each other accountable that way.”

“Sounds good to me.”

With yet another promise made, a moment of contemplative silence passed between them. Laslow still had yet to let go of Xander’s hand. Xander found he did not want to let him go either.

His heart felt heavy in his chest, but it wasn’t the same fullness he’d felt when his lungs had flooded with petals and pollen. This was a different sort of heaviness. A pleasant kind.

“So,” Laslow said after a few beats. “Five years and no idea. Really?”

Xander sighed heavily. The thought of coming up with another witty comeback suddenly exhausted him. “Elise did once offer to let me borrow a book on recognizing one’s own feelings. I thought it was merely in jest at the time.”

Laslow laughed at that, long and loud. Xander sudden had a flash of what the rest of his life might look like if they made it like Laslow seemed to think they would.

When Laslow kissed him, still laughing, Xander’s lungs free and clear, he thought that it wouldn’t be so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> I jokingly named Xander's horse "Ferdinand" as a reference to the FE3H character.
> 
> I thought it was fun to play into family relationships a little bit here, like Leo and Xander's somewhat strained relationship until their canon A Support. Leo is always comparing himself to Xander and feels like he can't live up to Xander at all, that it's frustrating being related to him, etc. but he still loves Xander a lot and of course would do weird favors Xander asks for even though Xander doesn't say why. It's just another reason Leo gets grumpy about stuff. (Also I wanted to subtly include those background canon "Leo hates Odin until he suddenly doesn't" events. I think that's hysterical.)
> 
> I think forget-me-nots work well for Laslow because of Support his worry about forgetting Ylisse and all that happened there, including his past identity as Inigo. Plus that DLC where he gives Xander a rock so Xander will never forget him. He puts a lot of emphasis on souvenirs. I feel like a peony is a very gentle flower that could represent him as well, but while researching this fic I saw peonies sometimes called the king of flowers. Xander = Crown Prince/King, so I like that. Plus the Greek story of Aphrodite transforming a nymph into a red peony, making it represent bashfulness, etc. So I thought that was good flower for Xander & Laslow both. I'm not flower expert, so there could be lots of mistakes in that line of logic, however, lol
> 
> Xander's grief post-Corrin rejection but pre-joining Corrin was based on his wild behavior in Birthright when Corrin straight out joins Hoshido, and the slow loss of his family makes Xander go insane with grief. I always want to explore that Xander more. Obviously it gets nowhere that bad in Revelations, but I feel like some of that frustration would still be there for a brief time.
> 
> The scene of Laslow putting a blanket on a sleeping Xander is based on [this official art.](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Inigo/Gallery?file=Xander_and_Laslow.png) So is the mention of that "cat-rabbit" hybrid. I need to address that in a fic someday. What in the world is that thing?
> 
> Anyway, Happy Birthday, Kimium! Hope you liked it! And I hope everyone else who read this enjoyed it too!
> 
> If you did, feel free to leave a comment below or hit me up on my [tumblr!](http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com/)


End file.
